


Safe and Sound

by InkStainsOnMyHands



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, M/M, Sibling Incest, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 104,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkStainsOnMyHands/pseuds/InkStainsOnMyHands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiro Hamada. Hiro Hamada. Hiro Hamada. No matter how many times Tadashi repeated the name in his head, it didn’t make any sense. His baby brother, the child he had raised from infancy, the teenage terror that roamed the streets looking to battle robots, was chosen to fight for his life - no, it couldn’t be. It can’t. He had already lost so much to the Capitol, he couldn’t possibly lose the person he loved the most. (Hunger Games AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of my new fandom and Mockingjay: Part One coming out this weekend, I have written the obligatory Hunger Games AU for this fandom. I would like to thank my boyfriend and his brother for their beta-ing (while only slightly making fun of me). 
> 
> Now on AO3!

The day of the reaping was unusually muggy. District 3 was used to its warmer springs, but somehow the heat seemed more oppressive that day. Whether it was from the cloudless day or the mass formation of bodies sharing their heat in the District’s square, Hiro Hamada felt sweat pool under the collar of his nicest shirt as he waited in line for the Capitol representatives to catalogue his participation. 

In front of the fourteen year old, his eighteen year old brother, Tadashi Hamada, turned his upper body to look at him. His broad shoulders were tense and his tall, lean body seemed too still to be natural, but the brightness in his almond-shaped eyes and easy going smile perpetuated the myth of being casual. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft enough to be soothing. 

Hiro nodded on reflex, despite the slight bounce in his foot and the ever present pounding against his ribcage. He shrugged. “I’m cool, you?” 

“I’m good.” Tadashi reached out, placing his large hand on Hiro’s head. He ruffled the boy’s mop of jet black hair, a habit he had developed when they were younger and never seemed to put forth the effort to break, not that Hiro minded. It was familiar and comforting, especially now, of all times. 

His fingers lingered just the slightest bit too long among the silky threads, but Tadashi was forced to break away when the line rapidly began to deplete in front of him. It took too little a time for Tadashi to be next. He presented his trembling finger to the Capitol representative, as he had done six times before, and hardly winced when the lancet drew his blood. Once the box next to his name on the charter was marked, he was on his way to wait with the older teens. Hiro gulped down the lump that formed in his throat. 

“Next!” the woman on the table called out to him. 

Hiro gritted his teeth behind the stoic line of his lips; he wasn’t blind, he could see that his time was up. He lugged his lead-heavy legs to the table. He tried to keep his hand steady as he presented it to the ill tempered representative, but it was no use. It jittered like an obsolete engine roaring to life. The woman took his hand into her strong grip and pushed the lancet into his index finger. Hiro bit his lip to keep from crying out as a sharp pain radiated throughout his finger. His blood was then coaxed onto the paper by pressing the wound against the page, right next to where his name was written in big, bold letters. 

As soon as the finger was lifted from the paper, Hiro snatched his hand away. His eyes narrowed at the woman before he escorted himself the few yards to where the others in his age group were standing. Their eyes were all focused on the lone microphone standing on the stage. 

The stage was a grand, ominous thing only used for the reaping of one girl and one boy to be used as District 3’s offering to the Capitol’s Hunger Games, a televised sporting event where each District’s tributes were pit against each other to the death. Any other time, the stage was unoccupied unless its dark floors were being swept, its silver metal polished and the red curtains that hung on either side were dusted. It was as though they were trying to wipe away the dark cloud that hung over it, but Hiro knew no amount of effort could erase the history of carnage. 

Hiro looked at the fellow teens in his section. They weren’t far from the twelves and thirteens standing behind them, who were nervously clutching at their clothes and worrying their lips between their teeth, but there was something more hardened in their expressions. It was like the resignation of this yearly event finally seeped into their bones, making them wilted with weariness. Hiro looked in front of him to the sixteens and seventeens, who looked far too eager with bright eyes and devilish smiles. The eighteens to his right just sighed and pouted and rolled their eyes and bounced on their heels and talked incessantly among each other. All for the exception of Tadashi, who was almost directly across from his side, staring in his direction. 

Hiro gave him a small wave, which Tadashi returned along with a cheeky smile. "Dork,” Tadashi mouthed. 

“Nerd,” Hiro mouthed back. 

The microphone was tapped, bringing everyone to attention. Standing in front of the glittering amplifier stood the District 3 escort. He was a large bellied, flamboyant man whose balding hair was an appalling shade of red. Unfortunately for everyone, his hair matched his silk suit pants and jacket. Adorned on each of his fingers were a variety of rings, each of a different size and color, and on his wrist rested an obnoxiously large gold watch. It almost seemed to weigh his wrist down as he struggled to pat his sweating head with a handkerchief. It would be sad, Hiro found himself thinking, if it weren’t so irritating. 

The pomp and circumstance of the reaping began with the man’s slurred speech, but after forteen years of practice, Hiro was able to tune him out expertly. He glanced to where Tadashi stood. His brother’s eyes were hard and his face was stony, but his hand, firmly planted to his side, shook. Hiro sighed through his nose; Tadashi didn't have the nerve for this. 

Tadashi was a caretaker and always had been. As children, Tadashi was the one to raise Hiro. He hunted, begged and bartered to clothe and feed his younger brother the year after their parents had died in an industrial accident, while the Capitol merely sent a letter of faux bereavement and a “six month” bag of rations as recompense for their loss. Even when they were able to locate their distant Aunt, Tadashi took the responsibility to bring Hiro up while their relative worked double to feed two extra mouths. He was kind, compassionate and gentle. He was also extremely intelligent. 

Tadashi scored high enough on his exams to be admitted to an engineering school. When he graduated, he was transferred to a unit to build medical technology for the Capitol. Tadashi never seemed happier. His latest endeavor was attempting to manufacture cheaper bots for the rest of Panem. He wanted to care for as many people as he could, privileged or not. 

That was why each year Hiro would watch his brother carry the memory of those he couldn’t save. He worked tirelessly to help people, and yet he was helpless to save the children that would be slaughtered in the games. It never got easier for him. Every year, the souls of those lost children weighed down more and more on his heart. 

Hiro had no such heart. He was much too practical. There was nothing he could do for the tributes. It was best to build a barrier around his person and care for his own than to be emotionally crippled by something he had no control over. Shoganai, he thought to himself. 

After a tired speech about the glorified history of the hunger games, one that Hiro now knew by heart and could recite with the same flamboyant exuberance perfectly, the escort announced that he would draw the first name out of the lottery of girls. With a dramatic flick of his wrist, he plucked the first name to be called out of a glass bowl. He opened the piece of paper and read aloud the fate of one of the girls in District 3. Hiro released a rush of breath he hadn’t realized he was holding; the gasping girl walking to the stage with unsteady feet was someone he didn’t recognize. 

The escort made three short steps to the boy’s lottery. Hiro fought against the bubbling cauldron of anxiety in his stomach. What are the odds? He thought. He wasn’t like other boys in poorer districts who placed their names in the pot multiple times in exchange for more food. He was relatively privileged; he lived in one of the wealthier districts, and both his aunt and his brother made sure there was always more than enough to eat at home. His name was only entered once for every year he participated. Just three entries of his among hundreds of others. 

The escort turned his wrist agonizingly slow. Seconds ticked by, one by one, as Hiro’s foot tapped rapidly on the ground beneath him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the escort plunged his hand into the middle of the bowl and retrieved a small, beige piece of parchment. Hiro’s heart lept out of his control and raced against his battered ribcage. He closed his eyes and reminded himself of the odds. What are the odds? 

The escort opened the folded death warrant. With a mockery of mirth in his eyes and a clownish smile he read, “Hiro Hamada.” 

Hiro’s heart stopped. 

What were the odds, indeed. 

\---

Tadashi felt the world fall away from him.

Hiro Hamada

Hiro Hamada

Hiro Hamada

No matter how many times he repeated the name in his head, it didn’t make any sense. His baby brother, the child he had raised from infancy, the teenage terror that roamed the streets looking to battle robots, was chosen to fight for his life - no, it couldn’t be. It can’t. He had already lost so much to the Capitol, he couldn’t possibly lose the person he loved the most. 

His legs quaked underneath him. The boys who stood next to Tadashi steadied the faltering boy by placing their hands on his shoulders. 

Tadashi felt as though his mind was being pulled from him, disassociating him from reality. He couldn’t force himself to believe what he was clearly seeing in front of him: Hiro walking up to the podium nonchalantly with a smooth expression and graceful legs. He felt as though he were watching an old film reel. It wasn’t real, just moving pictures playing against a screen, so far removed from his existence that he didn’t have to hurt or wallow. 

As soon as the young boy made his way to the microphone, the escort asked Hiro to introduce himself. Hiro tipped his head bashfully, messy bangs falling in his honey-brown eyes as he leaned forward toward the device. “Hi, I’m Hiro Hamada. I’m fourteen years old and I like to make robots for fun,” he said, voice childlike and cheerful, as though he were introducing himself to a class rather than an audience who would soon rather see him dead. 

The escort leaned in toward the microphone, just a breath away from Hiro’s cheek. Far too close to Hiro, Tadashi thought as his stomach rolled painfully. “You are a cute one, Hiro!” the escort chirped while putting a chubby hand on Hiro’s slim shoulder. Tadashi fantasied about breaking the man’s wrist, much to his mortification. “Your family must be very proud, wouldn’t you say?” 

Hiro grinned, a chuckle at the back of his throat. “I hope so! Especially my big brother, Tadashi.” 

Tadashi felt the force of a lightning bolt hit his center at the sound of his name. His awareness came back to him much too quickly and clearly, like waking up from a lucid nightmare. Everything was too bright and too loud. It took several moments to recover his senses and realize that they were calling for volunteers. 

Especially my big brother, Tadashi, 

Tadashi 

Tadashi Hamada 

Yes, that made more sense. His brain could wrap around that. His name wasn’t a foreign, heavy, wrong thing on his tongue. It sounded right and clear and okay, wonderful, even. 

His feet acted faster than his brain. He ran through the crowd of people unceremoniously, bumping and pushing his way to the the aisle between the masses. “I volunteer!” he shouted, grounded and resolute, as those around him gasped and whispered. “I volunteer as tribute!” 

The escort quirked a painted eyebrow, but his broad smile did not falter. “Ladies and Gentlemen, what a strange turn of events! It seems as though we have a volunteer.” 

Tadashi was unable to process the cacophony around him as he made his way to the stage. His focus, his only focus from the time he was four years old, was on Hiro. Hiro, who was generous with his gap-toothed smiles and physical affection, who loved him so deeply and honestly, who had grown so utterly beautiful on the inside and out, and who was being taken by the arms and nearly carried off the stage by white-clad peacekeepers as he kicked and screamed and cried out, “Tadashi! No!” 

He wanted nothing more than to run to him, embrace him, whisper against his hair that everything will be alright, like he had a thousand times before, but he was forced to walk alone on his death march. 

The escort met Tadashi at the top of the stairs of the podium. He led the eighteen year old by the hand to the microphone that shone so brightly in the sun that it nearly blinded him. He hesitated to approach it, as though the proximity to the offending machine would make everything more real. “Come on, son, don’t be shy, introduce yourself.” 

Tadashi leaned forward just enough to be able to speak into the device. “Tadashi Hamada, sir." 

The escort leaned back before a roar of laughter escaped passed his too white teeth and gaping mouth. Tadashi winced, pulling back away from the noise that drowned out everything else. The escort sighed at the end of his fit and leaned back into the microphone. “What a polite young man! Now tell me, was that your brother who you volunteered for?” 

He looked out onto the crowd. For the first time, he noticed all the eyes that were staring back at him. They looked - sad, angry? He couldn’t know. He didn’t know anything about his home or his people anymore. Everything about who he was, where he came from, how he lived, what he loved was taken away from him when they called for his brother to be reaped. He was no longer Tadashi Hamada, he was just another tribute. 

He glanced down at the cameras that hovered below the stage, just a few yards from where he stood. Panem was watching him, gauging his reaction, dissecting him, pushing past sinew and bone to his core. Can he make it? Is he worth the time? Tadashi knew those were the answers the audience in the Capitol were looking for. 

Yes, for his brother, he could do anything. He steeled himself as he staggered closer to microphone. “Yes, that was my brother.” 

“Couldn’t let him have all the glory, now could you?” 

A hot flash of rage so foreign to Tadashi pierced his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. Glory? Where was the glory in the slaughtering of innocent children? Where was the glory in killing for the sake of entertainment? No, there was no glory in this. This was just ensuring that his most beloved person would survive. 

Tadashi narrowed his blazing eyes and looked directly into the camera. “I couldn’t let him get hurt. He’s the most important thing to me.” His voice was calm and steady. 

“Isn’t that sweet?” the escort asked of the now silent crowd. “Why don’t we give this boy a round of applause?” 

No one moved. A blanket of silence descended over the crowd, choking any word, any sound. Tadashi’s eyes roamed over the statuesque faces, willing for the silence to continue. Otherwise, he didn’t know if he could take their pity cloaked as praise, as though they were saying good bye. 

\---

Hiro couldn’t contain the swirling typhoon of anger from washing away everything else inside of him: the loss, the pain, the sorrow. It was so strong it demanded to be expelled by fists and kicks against the side of the city hall building. The peacekeepers had done their best to keep him calm with threats and physical restraint, but it only did so much. In the end, they were far too ashamed to admit that they failed at restraining a small child to call for back up and just watched as the boy assaulted the building. 

A door near to where Hiro stood opened. A dark-skinned peacekeeper stepped out over the threshold and motioned for the boy to enter with a wave of his hand. Hiro slowly uncurled from himself, stood straight, and walked with purpose to where the peacekeeper led him. 

The hallway was dimly lit despite the morning sun. Lined along the walls were photographs taken of various political events that had taken place within District 3. A popular subject was President Snow’s visitations in various areas of District 3: the city hall, the factory, the laboratories, the home units. In each picture he smiled brightly, shaking hands with people, or he was in a pose that suggested he was giving fatherly guidance. Hiro contained the urge to spit on them. 

At the end of the hall were two dark oak doors located on opposite sides of one another. The peacekeeper urged Hiro with a small but firm push to the left wall. To further emphasize his point, the peacekeeper barked, “Wait here.” 

“Yes, sir.” Hiro mocked with a salute, but the peacekeeper was no longer paying any attention to the boy. He was looking at the hologram display of the time on his wrist, counting down each and every second. When the timer came to 0:00, he opened the door to the right side door with enough force that Hiro thought that the antique brass knob would surely be pulled off. 

“Times up,” he announced to the people inside. Hiro saw, through the open the door, a frail looking woman with graying straw hair wailing as she was dragged by the arm away from the female tribute. A tall, gaunt man gathered the female tribute in his arms in a tight hug before he followed the woman, with only drained, tired eyes as protest. Two youngsters that looked just shy of reaping age exited the room right behind the man, tear stains evident on their reddened cheeks. 

Hiro had to stop himself from succumbing to the nauseousness that suddenly hit him. 

The peacekeeper returned only a short moment later and opened the left door with just as much force as the other. In the same brutish voice, he announced that time was up for whoever was inside. 

A woman wearing auburn waves and a plain blue dress appeared at the the door. Her green eyes were wet with unshed tears, and her thin, chapped lips formed a straight line. When she saw Hiro, she bounded to him, scooping him into her arms. Hiro breathed in the scent of his Aunt Cass, but it did little to calm him. 

“Oh Hiro,” she moaned solemnly against his shoulder. She said nothing else, but her silence conveyed enough. Hiro wanted to speak, to say something that would make everything okay for the both of them. Hiro knew, however, that nothing could be done or said to make anything okay ever again. 

The peacekeeper tapped Aunt Cass on the shoulder. She hesitated, squeezing him tighter for the briefest of moments, but eventually slowly broke away from Hiro. She wiped her face with her hand and made her way down the hall, but not before stealing another glance in his direction. Her expression, dark and pained, tightened his chest. 

"You have five minutes," the peacekeeper announced. He held the door open for Hiro, but far from feeling as though it were a polite gesture, Hiro felt as though he were being led to a firing squad. 

The circular room he entered was dimly lit due to the blinds being pulled down over the large windows on the opposite wall. The rest of the curved walls were lined with shelving, holding books, pictures and various trophies. An ornate cherrywood desk sat in the middle of the room, with Tadashi leaning against it. 

“Tadashi! You self-sacrificing idiot!” Hiro screamed as he ran to his brother. He collided with Tadashi’s chest painfully, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore except for being able to hold onto his beloved brother. Tears of rage and despair he didn’t dare fight, lest he lose himself, soaked the grey cloth beneath his cheek. 

Hiro felt Tadashi bend over him. His big brother’s lips made their way to his hair. “I’m sorry, Hiro,” his elder brother whispered against his head, sending shivers down his spine, despite himself. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you.” 

“What about you?” Hiro sobbed as he held on even tighter. “You aren’t a killer -” 

Tadashi pulled away from Hiro and took him by the shoulders. He looked him square in the eyes, but his expression was hard to read. “Neither are you!” Tadashi hissed at him. 

Hiro felt everything numb as it fell away from him. Tadashi was so caring and compassionate and good that he couldn’t see the truth that was buried beneath their bond. Hiro wasn’t like Tadashi, who had no stomach for hurting others, let alone killing them. “I could be,” Hiro felt the truth cascade smoothly from his lips in the form of a whisper. 

As though his words shed an illuminating light, suddenly the morbid humor of their situation was made abundantly clear to him. Hiro, the manipulative little shit that stole food right out of the hands of those he defeated without a single care, and who could actually watch passively as the life bled from someone’s eyes if it meant he would live, wouldn’t be sent to the games. Instead, his angelic brother who cared for the weak and healed the sick would go and get himself killed because he was just so goddamn perfect. 

Hiro shook his head as a dark bubble of a laugh escaped him. “Don’t you get it? I had a plan. I could have done it, Tadashi, I could have done it.”

Tadashi’s face contorted as he cocked his head to the side. “I don’t -” 

“That shit I was pulling on the stage was an act, you idiot!” Hiro screamed, “The games start the moment they pick you. I was already playing the game, Tadashi, and it’s something you’re not good at.” 

Tadashi’s expression softened into something so familiar it took the air out of Hiro’s lungs. “Thanks for the outstanding vote of confidence.” 

Hiro was suddenly transported to another time, where Tadashi wasn’t fighting for his life, but rather was at home with him, teasing him, giving him love and affection freely without a single care in their small world. But, this wasn’t that time and Tadashi would soon be in an arena surrounded by twenty-three people who be looking to murder him. 

Defeated and hysterical, Hiro took a firm hold of Tadashi’s arms. “You listen here, you make the Capitol like you, you stay out of the way of the other tributes, use your gift of charisma against them, do you understand?” 

“Yes -” 

“Don’t!” Hiro interrupted with a snap, if only to allow his mouth the time to communicate all the strategies his brain drew up. “Don’t make alliances. There isn’t safety in numbers when they are all trying to kill you. Don’t try to do anything you don’t know how to do, that includes fighting. You find food, water and shelter and you hide. Make traps for both animals and people. Don’t try to gra-” 

Hiro was cut off by Tadashi’s lips on his own. When had he moved? Hiro wondered as his brother’s lips moved soft and slow against his own. He closed his eyes as a tingling sensation radiated from his lips, coursing through his body until it made its way to his fingertips and toes. He felt his stomach drop, but it wasn’t unpleasant, far from it; it was pleasure in the simplest form. Yet, Hiro couldn't shake the question as to why he was having his first kiss here with his brother. Tadashi pulled away before he could ponder it further. 

Hiro opened his eyes. The look on his brother’s face had changed to something between bliss and pain. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. He was still so close that Hiro could feel his warm breath against his lips, sending aftershocks of electricity throughout his body. “I had to know what it felt like before -” 

"Times up!" The familiar barking came from the door. 

Tadashi and Hiro broke apart, nearly leaping out of their skin in the process. Tadashi whispered his farewells to his brother, but Hiro couldn’t make his mouth or legs move no matter how hard he tried. The numbness had spread from his core to his flesh. He felt trapped in his own body, a statue with a permanent silent scream etched on his face. After only a moment, the peacekeeper approached Hiro.

All at once, Hiro could feel everything. Anger, sorrow, loss, pain, and defeat overwhelmed him dangerously. He looked from the peacekeeper to his brother, his only source of clarity. He reached out, taking hold of him around his middle. He only had a heartbeat to appreciate the warmth of Tadashi’s body against his before he felt a tugging at his shoulder. He held on tighter, but the peacekeeper only needed the slightest bit of effort pull him off of his brother. Hiro shouted as he was thrown over the peacekeepers shoulders. 

He struggled in earnest to return back to Tadashi’s side, as though will alone could bring his brother back from the Capitol’s grip, but nothing worked against the other man’s hold. Just as they were about to exit the room, Hiro looked back at his brother, who wore the same pained expression his Aunt carried only a few minutes ago. That was when he realized that this wasn’t resignation, or sorrow or even pain in their downcast eyes. It was the same emotion he carried underneath all of the others. 

It was fear.


	2. Elastic Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I wanted it, I wanted it bad  
> But there were so many red flags  
> Now another one bites the dust  
> Yeah, let's be clear, I'll trust no one
> 
> You did not break me  
> I'm still fighting for peace
> 
> Well, I've got thick skin and an elastic heart,  
> But your blade it might be too sharp  
> I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard,  
> I may snap and I move fast  
> But you won't see me fall apart  
> 'Cause I've got an elastic heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my boyfriend and his brother for beta-ing my fic!

It was the seventh day of the 71st annual Hunger Games, and only five tributes were left, including Tadashi. Hiro thanked what ever higher power was listening that Tadashi had taken his advice and avoided any confrontation, choosing to run and hide in the mountainous terrain that made the arena rather than seek other tributes. He was quick to find fresh water and make traps for his food. When someone was close to finding him, he was cunning enough to lead them away from his position. He had yet to kill a single person, but he was making himself a very difficult target. Hiro had to admit, however, that his continued survival wasn't just due to his cleverness, but his charm as well. 

He was Panem's darling. During the pre-game coverage, Tadashi was able to win the hearts of anyone who watched. The men admired his quiet strength and determination to win. The women admired his beauty and charisma. He was favored to win even before the game maker’s survival assessment score came back, but scoring a ten out of twelve didn’t hurt matters either. Tadashi had a whole host of sponsors, Capitol citizens who routinely sent gifts to tributes while they fought in the games, and more survival gear than he probably needed. 

Overall, Hiro was proud of his brother. He had underestimated Tadashi’s ability, that was for sure. When his elder brother won and came back home, he would apologize. 

Hiro watched from the holographic projector in Aunt Cass’ kitchen as Tadashi hiked through the woods, leisurely navigating through an invisible trail with a canteen in his hand. He approached a stream, but just as he bent down on one knee, he stopped before he could place the canteen into the water. He looked up, his eyes darting around the trees that surrounded him. “Hiro?” 

The view of Tadashi collapsed to reveal two game announcers watching from a holographic display between them. As the holographic screen displayed Tadashi standing and turning towards the bottom of the stream, a man wearing a bright silver suit, and whose mane of pink hair was tied behind his head in a ponytail, turned to his co-host. The co-host was an older, plumper gentlemen with a top of unnaturally curly blonde hair, wearing a black, pinstriped shirt. “You can barely make it out, but I think what Tadashi is hearing are mockingjays.” 

“Ah, yes!” the co-host agreed. “I can hear it now.” 

The first host went onto explain that mockingjay were mutts, or animal mutations, that the Capitol had accidently created. They were known to be able to mimic any sound, including artificially created ones. 

The screen came back to a full view of Tadashi, who was running through the woods. “Hiro!” he called out desperately over and over as he navigated over rocks and fallen branches, nearly tripping several times. 

“Tadashi! Help me!” the voice echoed excruciatingly loud through the mountain. 

Hiro felt a chill run up his spine; it was so surreal and disquieting to hear himself scream. 

What Tadashi didn’t know, what he couldn’t know, was that someone was waiting for him at the mouth of the stream. Peridot, a blonde, brutishly built tribute from District 1, heard the cries too, and knew that his fellow tribute would come to where the sound was the loudest. The view on the screen panned to the boy, a look of hunger for carnage evident in his overeager smile and razor sharp eyes. 

“Tadashi, you idiot!” Hiro screamed at the projection, as though if he were loud enough Tadashi would be able to hear him, “I’m okay! I’m right here. You’re going to get your sorry butt killed.” 

Tadashi didn’t stop; Hiro knew he wouldn’t. Hiro’s heart pounded painfully in his chest as he continued to watch his brother navigate through terrain he was unused to, shouting his name desperately all the while. Tadashi lumbered through each step, his forehead shimmered with sweat and his cheeks flushed brightly, but he continued going until he made it passed the tree line and into the clearing where Peridot waited for him several yards away. 

Tadashi didn’t hesitate to take a throwing knife he had pilfered from a broken body several days prior out of the side pocket of his cargo pants. “Where is he?” he demanded in a voice Hiro had never heard before. It was forceful, but broken. 

Peridot smirked. His green eyes flashed. “That brother of yours is real pretty, Tadashi,” he said slowly while twirling the shining short sword in his hand, “While I normally only go for girls, he’s got a figure that makes you kinda forget he’s a guy, huh?” 

Tadashi raised his armed hand, readying the throwing knife until it was just a flick of the wrist away from being embedded into Peridot’s throat. “Where. Is. He?” 

“Oh, he's alright, just had a little fun with him, but I bet I didn’t pop his cherry, did I?” Peridot asked, his voice heavy with dangerous amusement, “You had a taste of him, too? Didn’t you?” 

Tadashi moved his left foot forward, but his right arm hesitated. His fuming eyes narrowed to dagger points. The snarl that pushed its way out of his gritted teeth rivaled that of a wild animal. But, his hand trembled as it tightened on the hilt of the blade. "You sick-" 

Hiro felt his heart jump into his throat. 

"Ha! Don't deny it. I saw the way you looked at him during the reaping, we all did. And the interview? How the only person you care about is him?” Peridot let out a dry laugh. “I don't blame you though, not anymore, that slut sucks cock like it’s his job.” 

Tadashi’s wrist jerked, but then a scream of “Tadashi!” rang out throughout the clearing. Tadashi looked toward the pond and away from the camera for a long moment. When his face finally came back to view, the expression upon it had softened minutely into something much more familiar to Hiro. The younger brother let out a bated breath.

“What do you want?” Tadashi asked with a steady, if not exasperated, voice. 

Peridot’s smirk faltered slowly. The boy’s eyes flickered up and down over Tadashi’s body. “I want a lot of things, but your weapons and survival equipment will do for now.” 

Tadashi, without taking his eyes off of Peridot, threw his kunai knife and canteen on the ground. Tadashi tore the weather resistant jacket off of his body and tossed it in with the rest of the pile. 

Hiro mentally noted, with relief and a hint of something else he couldn’t place, that Tadashi’s black short-sleeved undershirt still clung tightly to his broad chest and toned body. His physical health, at least, didn’t look worse for wear, although it wouldn’t matter soon if Peridot killed him or left him without any of his survival gear. Hiro silently prayed for Tadashi to think of a way out of his predicament. 

“Now, tell me where he is.” 

Peridot’s only acknowledgement was a triumphant sneer. One foot over the other, he approached the pile, but stepped over it and toward Tadashi. 

Hiro gasped for a breath that wouldn’t come. He gripped the seat below him until the skin over his knuckles stretched painfully. His vision blurred. “Tadashi,” Hiro begged of the projection, “Please, please, please.” 

Tadashi stood his ground, even as Peridot made his way into striking range. His expression never faltered, showing no signs of fear or apprehension. Hiro felt bile burn his throat. 

“You’re an idiot, Tadashi,” Peridot nearly whispered while slowly shaking his head back and forth, “Your brother isn’t here, but I’ll tell you what: when I visit District 3 on the Victory Tour, I’ll be sure to pay him a nice visit.” 

Peridot didn’t get a chance to raise his weapon. Tadashi reached out and took Peridot’s wrist into his grip in a movement so fast that even Hiro hadn’t quite caught it. Peridot cried out as Tadashi seemingly squeezed the weapon out of his hand. “Word to the wise, don’t try to spin a sword when your wrist is sprained,” Tadashi said calmly, as though he were an apothecary giving advice to a patient. 

Hiro bounced in his seat, smiling and laughing hysterically. He couldn’t believe it! Hiro knew that he and his brother shared the same skill of being able to pinpoint someone’s weaknesses, but while Hiro used this power to manipulate others, Tadashi had always used it to help people. This was the very first time he had ever seen Tadashi use this skill to exploit someone. But, that son of a bitch did it, and so well! Even Hiro hadn’t detected what minute detail it was that gave Peridot away. “Tadashi, you’re a genius!” 

Once the sword fell onto the grass below, Peridot, whose pained features hardened into a grimace, attempted to punch Tadashi. Tadashi used his other hand to not only block the attack, but grab hold of the other boy. He raised his leg as he pulled down on his opponent, kneeing him right in the diaphragm. When the boy attempted to regain the air that was pushed out of him, Tadashi threw him onto the ground and bounded over to his things. 

Peridot crumpled in on himself, moaning and rolling on the grass, giving Tadashi just enough time to pull on his jacket and gather his canteen and throwing knives. The other teen recovered quickly, however, and picked up the sword that lay next to him. He staggered back up, but just as he readied himself to run at his target, Tadashi threw the kunai in his hand at him. The knife embedded itself deeply into his thigh. 

Peridot fell back with a pained howl. Tadashi approached the writhing teen slowly, as a predator would approach its wounded prey. The blonde boy reached out towards his thigh, but Tadashi used his foot to push his injured wrist away from the wound and onto the ground. He ground down on it, causing Peridot to scream. Twin rivers of tears ran down the impaired tribute's face. “Don’t pull the knife out,” he warned deliberately, “It’s embedded in your femoral artery.” 

Peridot thrashed in response. 

Tadashi stepped off of the boy. “You won't be seeing my brother. You’ll either die slowly, painfully of a staph infection, or bleed to death in minutes when you pull out that knife. Either way, you aren’t making it out of here alive, I made sure of that.” 

Tadashi walked back into the tree line, but didn’t make it far before cannon fire was heard up above, signalling the death of a tribute. He hesitated for a moment, but continued on. His stoic expression didn’t waver. 

Hiro swallowed passed the lump that formed in his throat. A tear fell from his eye, rolling down his cheek. Tadashi was alive, but he didn’t survive. No matter the justification, Tadashi would never kill someone. This person wore his brother’s face, but he was no longer the man Hiro was raised by.  
Even if Tadashi Hamada became the victor, the games had murdered his brother

\---

Hiro’s eyes fluttered open as he awoke from his nightmare. He pulled his hand from underneath the covers and wiped at the wetness he could feel on his cheeks. With a long sigh, Hiro turned his head towards the clock that rested on his nightstand; the holo-display read two-thirty am. Today is the day, he told himself. 

\---

The rebellion had finally started among the other Districts, and it was time for District 3 to join in. Hiro was more than prepared. He had spent four years lying in wait, honing his body and mind for this singular purpose, knowing that one day his expertise in mechanical engineering and computer programming would be needed to fight back against the oppressive rule of the Capitol. 

He snuck into the central laboratory unit where all of the electronics in District 3 were controlled by three long rows of individual holographic displays and a centralized computer that sat at the front of the room, which was connected to a rather imposing monitor. It was heavily guarded, but that didn’t matter when you had a key. Working his way to the top wasn’t difficult; he used his own grief and Panem’s pity against them. He just had to cry and smile at the right time, use his brain a little, and pretty soon he was a lead scientist working to supply the necessary equipment the peacekeepers needed to do their jobs. At eighteen, it was a pretty lucrative gig. Too bad he planned to take the whole system down. 

Hiro logged into the main computer, not caring that he was using his own credentials to get into the system. Tracking all of this back to him would have no use since he didn’t plan to survive passed the night. If he had an aunt to be concerned about, he might hesitate, maybe plan this part out just a little bit better. If he had his brother, maybe none of this would have happened, maybe he could have hidden them both in the woods and lived in peace, far away from the eyes of their government. As it stood, he had nothing left. That made Hiro dangerous. 

It took only two keystrokes on the holographic keyboard to shut the power off to everything within the district, for the exception of the computer and its monitor. It took only another few commands to shut down the peacekeepers weapons and their communications tower - the fatal flaw he purposefully built into the system. On the two-way radio he had refurbished, he announced to his fellow rebels that the plan was in full swing. Outside, they prepared to use the dark and old-fashioned weaponry to take down the majority of the peacekeepers, who were far too reliant on light and his technology to fight back. On the inside, it was up to Hiro to make sure no one could turn the power back on. To do that, he had to blow the whole lab sky high. 

Hiro knew he wasn’t going back home after the plan was executed. There was no way to ensure the bomb would explode before someone disabled it if he timed the charge to go off once he was at a safe distance. He reached into his dark trench coat's inner breast pocket and produced a small picture of he and his brother. They were young when the picture was taken; Tadashi was fourteen and he was ten. Hiro was holding onto Tadashi’s middle while Tadashi had one hand on his arm and the other buried in his hair. Hiro breathed in deeply through his mouth and wiped his tears. 

Just as he had folded the picture and placed it carefully back into his pocket, the sound of protesting metal came rumbling from the entrance to the room. Hiro looked over to where the two automatic doors were being pried apart by a man in black riot gear, which included an ancient-style gasmask. 

Hiro was momentarily taken by surprise. He made sure to lock the door shut; no one should have managed get in without a physical key, let alone with just their bare hands. That was after they had to get through the Capitol's watchdogs posted all along the outside. 

Without additional preamble, Hiro reached into his side pockets and produced his throwing knives. The man, whoever he was, wasn’t a peacekeeper, that was for damn sure, but he wasn’t a rebel either. Spending very little time, he threw his expertly aimed kunai, one after the other, at the man. To Hiro’s astonishment, the man sidestepped around both of them in rapid succession. 

Hiro reached into his right combat boot to pull out his hidden hunting knife. He positioned the knife along the side of his wrist and raised it to eye level. After a heart beat, Hiro ran at the man, who in turn, ran at him. The man reached for his raised fist, but Hiro had expected that. Hiro used the man’s grip to steady him as he kicked the stranger’s legs out from under him. Far from being surprised, the stranger had seemed to predict the move and rolled onto his back defensively. Meanwhile, he kept a steady hold of Hiro’s wrist, pulling the shorter man on top of him. The man wrapped his legs around Hiro’s before rolling on top of him, pinning the shorter man’s other arm underneath him and between the tiled floor. 

Hiro struggled for a moment to try to get his armed hand free, but the stranger’s grip was too strong. The mystery man used his thumb to push the skin between Hiro’s thumb and index finger, pinching the nerve. Hiro couldn’t help but cry out as the nerves in his hand were set on fire before instinctively loosening his grip on the knife. It then clattered to the floor, where the other man picked it up and threw it to the other side of the room. 

“Who are you?” Hiro growled as he attempted to thrash away from the man’s hold. 

“All questions will be answered in due time,” the distorted voice filtered through the man’s mask, “But you must come with me.” 

After only the slightest bit of hesitation, Hiro gave the man a single nod. It was all it took for the stranger to get off of him. Once Hiro was free, he pulled himself up on his feet in a single hurried movement. He raised his fist, fully prepared to punch the mask off the man’s face, but his opponent was quicker than he. He took Hiro’s fist, using it to maneuver Hiro around and against the wall. He pulled Hiro’s arm behind his back far enough for it to be uncomfortable, but not painful. 

“I will not hesitate to restrain you,” he warned, low and heavy. Hiro shivered. 

“Fuck you,” he responded back with a quaking voice. 

A rush of air came out of the gas mask. “Fine,” the man replied, “if that’s how it’s going to be.”

Hiro’s free arm was pulled by the other man and joined with his trapped one. His two wrists were then held in place by one extraordinarily large hand. A flashback washed over him so suddenly he was pulled into its strong tide, taking him from reality and into a memory of when he and his brother would wrestle. Tadashi’s hands were so much larger than his and could take him down easily if he tried, but he never did. He always let Hiro win. 

The tide pushed forward and he was shaken from his daydream, but not before the process had started for his hands to be tied with what Hiro felt was rope. 

Hiro attempted to make sure his wrists had enough room apart for an escape later, but the other man simply tightened his hold on them. In a matter of mere moments, his wrists were tied so tightly that any movement of his arms sent a pulsing pain down through them. Hiro growled, still struggling to admit defeat and accept his fate. But, once he ticked off all of the options his mind had conjured up as impossible, he gave out a mirthless laugh. “You weren’t kidding about the restraints.” 

The man hooked his hand onto the back of Hiro's trenchcoat collar. He pulled him off of the wall much more gently than Hiro would have expected, but nonetheless, kept a tight grip on his bound wrists. "I told you." The man growled as he pushed Hiro out of the lab and through the metallic door. 

Although dimly lit, Hiro could still see that four white-clad, fully-geared peacekeepers rushed in a square formation through the hall towards them. Mystery man had spent no time releasing Hiro’s clothing and reaching to his waist to unclip what looked like a long, silver tube. He threw it towards the peacekeepers, and the moment it hit the ground, it began to fill the hallway with what appeared to be smoke. 

Hiro closed his eyes and held his breath, prepared for the concoction released to assault his senses, but the man, through the mask that rested against Hiro’s ear, whispered, “No need, it’s just smoke, come on.” 

The man then rushed Hiro through a side corridor, which led to the door to the laboratory’s supply department. The supply department was a large, expansive room with stacks upon stacks of equipment resting on metal shelving. It was typically used to store old equipment, which would then later be transported throughout Panem to provide them with functional, but obsolete technology. Although the massive amount of stock made what seemed like a silver maze, the man navigated Hiro through it as though he had gone through the same route a million times before, until they reached an open truckport. 

Clever, Hiro had caught himself thinking with a smirk. Whoever this man was had waited until the power was cut off before pushing the truckport door open so as to not trigger the alarm, meanwhile the peacekeepers were too busy looking for the source of the power outage to even notice him. Hiro was forced to admire the strategy, although he wondered how it was that he knew someone would cut off the power. 

Outside of the truckport, what looked to be a small hovercraft was parked with its back passenger gate opened. Hiro had worked on hovercraft before, but this was unlike anything he had ever seen. It had the same triangular shape and sleek edges of the current model, but the metal plating on the outside looked far too dull in color to be anything the Capitol had recently produced. It was also much smaller, more compact. Who made this? Hiro thought, but before he could ponder too much more on the subject, he was forced inside of the vehicle, followed by the masked man. 

With his hands still bound, he was helped into an empty seat next to another riot gear-clad individual - female if he had to guess from the shape. The masked man took the seat across from his. 

“Nii-san, thought you weren’t ever going to make it out,” a feminine voice came from the speaker system above them. 

“I was five minutes,” the masked man called out, “just like planned.” 

“I could have done it in three,” the voice countered sharply. Just a moment later the back port began to close slowly, metal singing as it moved against itself, until the door made a heavy thud as it latched itself shut. A hissing sound followed. The engines on the top side of the vehicle rumbled to life, causing the passenger compartment beneath to quake noisily. Hiro found himself gritting his teeth. 

“It’s alright,” the person next to him spoke, her muffled voice light and airy, but none too soothing. She took off her mask and dark hood, revealing a long-haired, blonde woman with an angular face, bright green eyes, a button nose, and a full mouth. “You’ll be okay, this ride is very safe.” 

Hiro’s jaw remained painfully clenched as he eyed the other occupant in the vehicle. “It’s not the ride I’m worried about,” he spoke under his breath. 

She glanced towards her compatriot. “Not the warmest introduction, I imagine?” 

The stranger crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back into his chair. “He was being - uncooperative.” 

“Yeah, that’s the politically correct way to put it.” Hiro spat out. 

“I’m Honey-Lemon,” the woman cheerfully intercepted. She presented her gloved hand to Hiro, who took it on instinct rather than forethought. 

“I’m Hiro Hamada.” Hiro let go of the woman’s hand. 

She gave him a small smile. “We know who you are, that’s why you’re here.” 

Hiro leaned back away from - Honey-Lemon, was that really her name? “And why am I here?” 

“We’ll answer that when we get to our destination,” the masked man replied gruffly for the girl. 

Honey-Lemon’s smile fell away, although her eyes remained easy. She coughed into her hand, then proceeded to lean back into her seat. She closed her eyes. 

Hiro looked back to the stranger. He tried to gauge him, but it was difficult without making out his facial features. The man's pose was relaxed, but his large shoulders were far too stiff. His gloves trembled just ever so slightly, but it was just enough for Hiro’s notice. He leaned his head back as a smirk made its way to his lips. 

“Is this a long trip? If so, you better get me some bags because I get motion sick pretty easy,” Hiro said, his voice heavy with snide mischief. 

“No you don’t.” The man crossed one leg over the other. “But you have some time for a short nap.” 

Short trip? Definitely not the Capitol, then. 

Hiro closed his eyes. 

___

The nightmare always played out the same. Hiro would be in Aunt Cass’ dimly lit kitchen, sitting at the table, watching the projection that appeared on the nearest wall. He always knew, somehow, that his brother’s pre-game interview would start soon, even though all he could see was an empty stage with a lone microphone. 

A faceless show host soon appears, and although Hiro could never remember when or how he got there, it didn’t seem strange. The show host, with an open hand out toward the entrance of the stage, introduces his brother with just too much enthusiasm,“You know him as District 3’s volunteer tribute! Give a round of applause for Tadashi Hamada.” 

There would be a deafening roar, but it did not come from the audience or from where he sat. It was far away, just a white noise in the background that he couldn’t quite make out. It was unsettling in its indistinctness.

But, it stopped the moment his brother stepped onto the stage. 

Tadashi would always be impeccably dressed, wearing a gray suit vest over a white long-sleeved dress shirt, black tie, matching pants and leather dress shoes. His smile would be broad and directed straight at the camera, just for him. Hiro couldn’t help but smile back. 

The interview began when Tadashi sat down on the outrageously purple armchair, but the questions and answers were dulled to incomprehensible noises. Still, Hiro felt a strange sense of calm watching his brother’s lips move, his hands gesture and his eyes shine so vividly. Everyone must have loved him, just like he did, how could they not? 

The dull noises sharpened to a fine point where Hiro could understand almost too clearly what they were saying. 

“Is there a special someone you want to come home to?” the interviewer asked with a cheeky smile so obnoxious it irritated Hiro’s senses. 

Tadashi looked from the faceless man to Hiro. “Yes.” 

It was then that Hiro would be transported into an empty television studio. The audience, the faceless man, the chairs, everything was gone. It was just him sitting in the front row of the auditorium, and Tadashi standing on the stage. 

“I promise, Hiro,” he said, his voice shaking and his eyes shimmering with clinging tears. “I’ll come home to you.” 

Then, the smoke would appear at the back of the stage. It was so subtle that one could miss it, but Hiro always knew it was there. The smoke would extended and fill the auditorium. Through the curtain of translucent grey, Hiro would see the flames start to lick the sides of red curtains. It would climb quickly over the fabric, engulfing it in its orange heat. The fire would then spill onto the stage’s floor, and like a rushing tide, it swept over the entirety of the stage. Hiro couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, only watch as his brother turned around and entered into the inferno. 

\---

Hiro gasped as he was shaken to awareness. His eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings. He was no longer in a clouded auditorium, but in what looked like a metallic box. After searching through his last waking memory, he realized that he was still sitting in the hovercraft, which had landed if his hearing and sense of movement could be trusted. 

“We’re here,” Honey-lemon announced softly. 

Hiro swallowed dryly. “Where’s here?” he asked, his voice rough with what remained of his sleep. 

The mystery man made his way into Hiro’s vision, hovering over him so Hiro could see very little of anything aside from the dark-colored profile. “District 13,” he answered.  
\---

Hiro’s bound arms were released from their confinement, but he was not free. Like a prisoner being led to his cell, both Honey-lemon and her partner took him by the shoulders and led him through the hangar. The hangar was a semi-underground warehouse for hovercraft, missiles and other large weaponry. It was a buzz of activity as people moved noisily throughout the massive amounts of stockpiles that sat on the ground. Hiro silently wished he had had this arsenal in District 3. 

He was taken to an elevator with manual doors that looked more akin to flimsy wire gates than anything else. When they were closed, one on the other, the elevator seemed more like a cage, which added to Hiro’s misgivings. The stranger pushed a button, and the elevator slowly moved downward. 

As they descended into what looked to be a large silo with levels of harmonica holes cut into its curved walls, Hiro took note of the massive amount of people on each floor scurrying from one area to the next, always in the midst of doing something. The stranger’s hip buzzed, pulling Hiro out of his thoughts. 

The stranger pulled out what appeared to be a black, rectangular communications device. The screen did not display anything holographically, so Hiro was unable to read anything on it. However, by the way the gasmask seemed intent on the device, it was worth noting that whatever it was he was reading was important. He looked up from the device and at Honey-lemon. 

“Honey, you’re wanted in command for a report,” he instructed her. “I’ll escort Hiro to his new room on my own.” 

Honey-lemon smiled sweetly. “Sure thing.” 

As if to punctuate the statement, the rusting elevator screeched to its stop. The mystery man pushed the doors open. He returned back to where Hiro stood and took him again by the shoulder before he was physically escorted out of the vehicle and to the their current floor. 

As they walked to what Hiro assumed would be his room, as his keepers had mentioned, he observed that the entirety of their current location was bathed in a dark shade of grey. From the walls to the floors to the doors, everything was gray or metallic. Sunlight was nowhere to be seen, mostly due to being at least a mile underground, but the artificial lights did little to brighten the atmosphere. Hiro suddenly felt very cold. 

After what felt like hours being navigated through a maze, they stopped by a metallic door with the number “4” painted in bright yellow on its bottom right side. The masked man produced a keycard and swiped it along the sensor situated next to the door handle. When the sensor flashed green, the man pulled the door open and motioned for Hiro to step inside. 

The room was remarkably bright; the artificial light bounced so strongly off of the white painted walls that it was almost blinding. On the right wall, a large window gave Hiro the view of the hollow interior of the place. Below the window was a white desk with a metallic frame, matching chair pushed in neatly. In the center of the room lay a wide bed set on a metal frame that jutted from the wall. At the front of the room was a simple, white nightstand that strangely lacked any personal effects of any kind. A closed door was set on the far side of the room, but Hiro didn’t plan to stay long enough to find out what was on the other side. 

Just as the mystery man shut the door behind him, Hiro used the momentary distraction to elbow him in the face, jarring the position of the gasmask a few inches. As the man staggered back, Hiro could see through the opening in his coat that a knife was belted on his right hip. He reached for it, but the man recovered far too quickly and stopped him by taking his wrist. 

The man used Hiro’s momentum to turn him around. After taking Hiro’s other wrist into his other hand, he pushed the shorter man’s back against the wall. He maneuvered Hiro’s wrists until they were both above his head. “Hiro,” the stranger hissed, “Stop!” 

Hiro struggled against the hold. “Tell me where I am!” he commanded with a strangled shout. 

“I told you, you’re in District 13.” 

“Not likely, that place burned to the ground seventy-five years ago,” Hiro spat, “Try again.” 

“No, District 13 went underground after the first war-” 

“Liar!” Hiro screamed, cutting off the masked man. He tried to kick the stranger, but he was too close to have enough room to create any momentum with his movements for a solid connection. 

“Hiro!” the man shouted, his voice both willful and strong enough to stop the struggling teenager. In a much gentler voice, he coaxed, “Hiro, you have to trust me.” 

Hiro let out a humorless laugh. “Trust you? Buddy, I don’t even know you.” 

The hold on Hiro’s wrists tightened slightly. “Yes,” the man urged, “You do.” 

Hiro’s eyes widened and his body became unnaturally still. The man let go of Hiro, using his now free hands to remove the gasmask off of his face. What Hiro saw brought a flood of tears to his eyes and a cold stab of pain to his stopped heart. 

Tadashi stood before him, paler and with a shadow over his face he had never seen before, but, by God, it was definitely him. 

Or was it? 

It couldn’t be; Hiro had seen him perish in the games, heard the canon signalling his death reverberate throughout the District, felt his loss each time he awoke next to an empty space in their once shared bed, and had carried his memory every day for the last four years. His loss, his sorrow, his anger hadn’t turned into a mourning that faded away with time, it turned into a hatred that was real and hungered for retribution. 

Whoever this person was, it was not his brother. 

“Get away from me,” Hiro commanded with a broken voice. 

The man’s warm, honey-brown eyes softened pleasantly, if not sadly. It was so achingly affectionate that Hiro longed to feel himself slip into the belief that his Tadashi was really there, alive and well. But, he couldn’t; for all Hiro knew this was a Capitol watchdog wearing his brother’s face for a mask, readying himself to torture information about District 3’s rebellion out of him. Yes, that made much more sense. 

Hiro made a single stride to the door, but no matter the amount of effort he put into pulling at the handle, it would not slide open. Just as the other man approached him, Hiro ran across to the other side of the room. He flattened his side against the wall, shielded his head in his quaking arms and scrunched his eyes closed. Hiro didn’t dare to look, didn’t dare allow himself to fall for his trap, even as he heard the slow, heavy sounds of footsteps approach his way. 

When he felt a warm hand touch his arm, Hiro thrashed. “No! Don’t touch me!” he screamed, slapping and kicking haphazardly in front of him. The shorter man could feel some of his blows connect, but it didn’t deter the look-alike, who continued to attempt to restrain him by the arms. 

“Ow!” the other man said too loudly and exaggerated for it to be a response to pain. A code word? Hiro thought. 

The teen heard a hissing noise, like that of air rushing into a vacuum, come from the other side of the room. Despite himself, Hiro opened his eyes and turned his head toward the noise. What looked like a personified white balloon waddled over to the pair. “Hello!” it introduced with a wave of its inflated hand, “I am Baymax, your personal -” 

“Baymax,” Tadashi’s imposter interrupted sharply, “Psych procedure - sedation.” 

Hiro’s eyes widened. His stare flitted between his brother’s look-alike and the vinyl-skinned robot. He flailed even harder, fiercely trying to escape the hold the other man had on his arms. It was no use; just before his shaking legs collapsed beneath him as the world fell away into darkness, the robot’s hand sprayed some sort of mixture in his face. The last thing he felt was the bounce of something light on his head as a pleasant voice soothed, “Good boy.”


	3. Dead Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a call to your arms  
> To take on mind over matter  
> Replacing fist over fist  
> We are disappearing
> 
> You will be all that I seek  
> In a twisted light  
> I would live inside you  
> Words will be all that I keep  
> In an open space  
> They would live inside you

Tadashi always did his best thinking when he was in the lab, tinkering away at a project or upgrading a previous one. He could get lost in the movements of his hands, leave behind his emotions, process his real life through a filter of logic. Once he was sure Hiro was sedated and resting quietly in the hospital wing with a vigilant Baymax monitoring him, he found himself heading to the lab almost subconsciously.

The lab was a catch all term for the floor that made the technology sector of District 13. On that floor were several large rooms, all of which were a part of a different division. The divisions ranged from simple electronics to weapon’s manufacturing and research. Tadashi was a part of a small group of robotics experts that shared a room which held several work stations that lined the front and a raised platform in the back for testing prototypes. The robotics room was, thankfully, empty due to the mandatory curfew. He should have also been at his unit, but he was given a special reprieve for his successful mission.

Tadashi made his way to his assigned desk. A half-finished microchip sat next to a soldering gun, just below a magnifying glass. He sat down on the rolling stool sitting near his desk and went to work. No matter the effort, however, his feelings wouldn’t melt away into his microchip. Each time he thought of Hiro’s widened, tear-filled eyes and screams of protest, a pulsing pain hit him square in the chest, making him breathless and dizzy.

Tadashi put down the soldering gun and took his face into his hand. He rubbed at his eyes.

“Having some trouble?” a male voice called from the front of the lab. Tadashi looked up from his hand and saw a dark-skinned man in a wheelchair he recognized as Beetee Latier staring at him from across the lab.

Beetee was one of the few District 3 tributes to actually win the Hunger Games, making him somewhat of a celebrity where he was from. When Tadashi had worked in District 3’s central laboratory, he had recognized the victor as he roamed through the building, offering his expert advice in certain areas. But, Tadashi had never really spoken to him. They hadn’t even been introduced until he arrived in District 13 after they were rescued from their respective prisons. But while Tadashi was rescued from his position as a robotics expert in the Capitol, Beetee had been rescued from the third Quarter Quell.

Every twenty-five years, a Quarter Quell edition of the Hunger Games was played. Competitors would fight to the death, as always, but an extra twist was always introduced. The first Quarter Quell forced the Districts to vote for which tributes would be offered to the Capitol, while the second had stipulated that each District had to send four tributes rather than two. The third Quarter Quell had the Districts reap their tributes from a pool of their living victors, which included Beetee. District 13 rebels went on a mission to rescue him and the other rebellious tributes from the Hunger Games arena, but only two others were able to make it out: Finnick Odair and Katniss Everdeen. Tadashi had met them too, but only to allow Baymax to scan them for injuries while they were unconscious.

Beetee was the only rebel originating from outside District 13 that he had significant contact with, but he suspected it was mostly due to their close proximity to each other in the lab. At first, Tadashi was afraid that Beetee would somehow recognize him, as his face was plastered everywhere for several weeks before the 71st annual Hunger Games, not to mention that they had come from the same District. But, whether Beetee truly didn’t connect the dots or had realized his need to stay hidden, he had taken his introduction as “Urban” without protest. For that, Tadashi was extremely grateful.

Tadashi sighed. “No, no, just, really tired is all.”

Beetee wheeled himself over to Tadashi’s desk. “I heard you were able to get my friend Hiro out of District 3.”

At the sound of Hiro’s name, Tadashi felt a cold tingle run from his head to his fingers and toes while a hot piece of lead lodged itself in his stomach. It was strange to think of Hiro having a completely different life outside of his own. He had no notion that Hiro would pause his life completely in his absence, but while he intellectually knew he should be happy that his brother was able to move on from his loss, he couldn’t bring himself to shake off how unpleasant the idea was. 

It was even more unpleasant when he thought about how the one to ask President Alma Coin to launch a rescue operation to retrieve Hiro wasn’t Tadashi, but Beetee. It wasn’t as though Tadashi was idle, once he discovered that District 3 was beginning to show signs of rebellion he wanted to save his brother at all costs, but he lacked the resources and the know-how. He had only just arrived at District 13 a couple of weeks ago and had no access to command outside of their orders for him. He figured that after he fully implemented Baymax that he would have some sort of bartering chip, but it had been unnecessary. Beetee had convinced the President of District 13 that Hiro was an invaluable resource to the rebellion. His only comfort was that he had been the first to volunteer to retrieve him.

“Yeah,” Tadashi agreed quietly, “He - he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

Beetee smiled as his eyes wandered far away. “He’s willful and smart, and that combination can be…difficult.”

Tadashi, for the first time in nearly four years, snorted. It felt like a breath of fresh air after years of slowly suffocating. “I think difficult is putting it mildly.”

“He’s a good kid,” Beetee assured him, “But you must give him time. You must understand that his life had a singular focus until you plucked him from his station.”

Tadashi’s eyebrows knitted together, and he cocked his head to side. “And what was that?”

Beetee’s smile faltered. He adjusted his ill-fitted glasses. “Hiro is a troubled boy. The only thing he loved more than robotics was his older brother. When he lost his brother in the games, his grief turned into anger. Everything about his life quickly became about rebellion.” Beetee visibly trembled as his hands gestured. “In confidence, he spoke about taking apart the Capitol brick by brick.”

Tadashi’s mouth fell open. He felt the hairs on his arms rise.

—-

The ninth day of the 71st annual Hunger Games was its last. Three tributes had remained. Tadashi continued as he had been, catching his food, fetching his water, and keeping out of the way of the other tributes, not that the two remaining tributes were necessarily on his tail. If anything, they all seemed to avoid each other on purpose.

Hiro found the spectacle - not boring, per se, but melodramatic. While he knew his brother wouldn’t approve, he wistfully wished for an end of the games so that he could finally see Tadashi come home, even after all that had happened. A broken Tadashi could heal, could mend, become his brother once again. It was better than the alternative.

The holographic display panned to the smoke that descended from further up the hill, and down to where Tadashi had stationed himself. Hiro felt his body tense, but only just so. There was enough time for Tadashi to make a hasty getaway, and he did.

He watched intently as Tadashi gathered his materials and jammed them into his backpack erratically. Just as the smoke reached where Tadashi had been sitting, he jumped up as though the thick air around him burned. He lept to his feet, strapped the backpack onto his shoulder, and raced down the hill toward the pond. Just as he approached the treeline, a pained shout echoed over the valley. Tadashi’s feet halted before he looked toward the direction of the sound.

In the distance, but close enough to be easily seen, smoke bellowed from the tree tops as orange flames danced around their bases. Another shout came, and another. Tadashi’s face contorted as though he were trying to fight off something painful. After several heartbeats, Tadashi dropped his survival gear near the pond’s shore and raced back up the hill.

Hiro could feel his eyes widen impossibly big. He jumped from his seat, his hands fisting his hair. “What are you doing?” he shouted at the projection.

But. it was all too obvious to Hiro; Tadashi would try to rescue whichever tribute was in trouble. Tadashi raced up the hill, navigating through the flames that had started to flood the forest floor beneath his feet. Minutes went by, and the shouting only increased in volume. Slowly, Hiro came to realize that the voice was shouting Tadashi’s name.

“Rowan!” Tadashi shouted back, before he covered the coughs that sputtered out of him with his arm sleeve.

Hiro remembered Rowan. He was a male tribute from District 7. He was one of the younger ones, only barely fifteen years old. He had a mop of curly blonde hair and impossibly wide brown eyes; he was cute, but that was a huge disadvantage for him. No one thought he would make it as long as he actually did, not even Hiro, but it was probably due to Tadashi that he survived for so long.

Tadashi avoided the other tributes, that was for sure, but he had come across Rowan several times. The younger tribute was the only one that could successfully track him down, but far from being perturbed, Tadashi always offered to help him. That was when Tadashi actually noticed his presence. It was often shown that Rowan was constantly following or hovering over Tadashi, who seemed clueless to it, but he never tried to harm him. In fact, to Hiro, it looked as though Rowan were mooning over him like a love sick puppy.

It was pathetic, Hiro couldn’t help himself from thinking at times, especially since Rowan was supposed to be trying to survive, not fall in love with his opponent. His apathetic attitude toward the boy changed, however, as he saw Tadashi run over to a crumpled body on the ground. He hated the boy, because he was going to get his brother killed.

“Rowan?” Tadashi questioned gently as he turned the boy around. Half of Rowan’s face was untouched, but the other half was blackened and cracked in some places. The camera panned to the horrified look on Tadashi’s face.

Tadashi, despite his trembling hands and shaking lips, turned the boy until he was fully on his back. He pressed an ear to his chest. After several heartbeats, Tadashi lifted himself off of the boy. His eyes shimmered with tears. The sound of cannon fire boomed just above him.

Tadashi took in a shuddering gasp before he pulled himself on his feet. He looked at Rowan one last time before he raced down the hill, but it was too late.

All around Tadashi was a wall of flame. He turned his body in every way, his eyes scanning the surrounding areas, but the camera displayed the terrible truth to Hiro: there was no escape. As the fire creeped ever closer to him, he choked and coughed. The last word he spoke before the camera displayed Tadashi being consumed by a tidal wave of smoke and fire was “Hiro.” A sound, like thunder, roared in Hiro’s ear.

—-

Hiro gasped as he awoke. He tried to scramble up from the bed, as though he could somehow flee from his nightmare, but thick, leather restraints on his wrists pulled him back down. He growled as he tugged at them.

“The restraints are there for your protection, Hiro,” a pleasant, if faintly distorted, voice spoke from the corner of the room. Hiro looked toward the sound of the voice. There, in the middle of the dimly lit room, Baymax stood. His two black eyes blinked at him as he cocked his head to the side. “Is there something I can do to assist you?”

“Get me out of them!” Hiro barked.

“I can not do that without the proper medical clearance.”

Hiro gave another frustrated growl before turning his head away from Baymax. On the other side of his bed, Hiro could see that lined next to him were all manner of beeping monitors, recording and displaying everything from his heart rate to his brain waves on mildly illuminated screens. Hiro found himself uncomfortable, disquieted by how much of his person was on display.

As if to echo Hiro’s thoughts, Baymax announced, “I will scan you now.”

Hiro turned his head back toward the medical unit. “Don’t scan me,” he commanded, although the demand was without his earlier bravado.

“Scan complete.”

“Unbelievable,” Hiro grumbled under his breath.

“Your heart rate and blood pressure suggest that you are distressed.”

Distressed? Hiro thought to himself as he let out a bitter laugh. His situation lay mapped before him; earlier he had prepared to die to help bring down the Capitol, but suddenly he was whisked away to God knows where with the knowledge that his long dead brother, who was apparently very much alive, was somewhere in the vicinity. “You think?” Hiro asked snidely.

“There is no reason to be distressed,” the robot assured softly, “You are safe here.”

Hiro quirked an eyebrow at Baymax. “Here being District 13?”

Baymax blinked; Hiro thought the action endearing, but unnecessary for a medical bot.“Yes.”

Hiro shook his head. That singular affirmation went against everything he ever knew to be true.“How can that be? The Capitol destroyed District 13 after the first uprising.”

“District 13 was thought to be destroyed, but in reality, they moved their facilities underground. That is where you are, Hiro.”

Hiro looked away from Baymax and toward the transparent sliding door and wall that made the other side of his room. From what he could make out, across from his unit were more small rooms like his, but they were pitch black. No light streamed in from anywhere except for the few dimmed artificial bulbs that were still on in his room and in the hallway. “That explains alot,” he muttered to himself. With the sobering turn of events, it was easier to accept that he was truly residing within District 13. Even so, he couldn’t shake the wrongness of his brother’s presence. “And Tadashi?”

“Please refrain from using the name Tadashi to refer to my creator,” Baymax warned, although without any sternness to his words, “His identity must stay hidden for your protection. His new name is Urban.”

Hiro’s eyes widened a fraction. His left eyebrow climbed impossibly high on his forehead. “He created you? Wait, what do you mean my protection? How is he even alive?”

“Plutarch Heavensbee retrieved your brother from the Capitol -”

“Wait, wait, wait.,” Hiro interrupted frantically, “The gamemaker? The new one, the one that designed the Quarter Quell? That Plutarch Heavensbee? ”

“Yes, he is also the head of the rebellion. He felt as though Urban would be an invaluable resource to his efforts, but Urban only agreed if his former identity remained a secret.”

As if to emphasize his point, a bright, rectangular screen materialized itself on Baymax’s chest. Tadashi’s upturned face, looking directly into the recording device, featured prominently on the screen for several seconds. Behind him, a door opened revealing a tall, thick man wearing a black suit. Tadashi turned to face the entrance of the room just as the man closed the door behind him.

“Did you think on what we talked about?” the other man asked calmly. It didn’t take long for Hiro to notice how his eyes seemed predatory, calculating as they roamed over Tadashi. 

Tadashi looked down at the ground beneath his feet. He shook his head. “I - I can’t, I can’t let anything get traced back to my brother,” he nearly whispered.

The man, Plutarch, walked to the desk that was stationed against the wall near to where Tadashi was standing. He pulled out the chair that was tucked neatly into it and sat down, a long sigh escaping him as he did so. He crossed his legs, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his thick thighs. “What if I told you there was a way we can guarantee that won’t happen?” 

“How?” Hiro could hear the anxious hope in Tadashi’s voice.

Plutarch leaned back. He moved his hands onto his stomach. His outstretched foot twitched ever so slightly. “Fake your death,” he explained casually, as though it should have been the most implicit observation in the world, “We just need a sample of your dna to create a fake body, then add some movie magic to the security footage and poof, Tadashi Hamada is no more. It’s been done before, we can do it again.”

“And - you can really do this?” Tadashi questioned, moving only just the tiniest bit closer to Plutarch as he spoke.

Plutarch nodded. “I just need your guarantee that you will aid us in the rebellion.”

Tadashi looked away for the briefest second. Hiro could see the stiffness in his shoulders and the slight quake in his breathing. He turned back toward the gamemaker-turned-rebel.“I have a few conditions before I agree to this,” he said resolutely.

“Go on.”

Tadashi nodded. “One, Hiro gets a full pardon, even if he helps the Capitol. Two, no one can know my true identity. If this goes …south, I can’t let anything get traced back to the people I care about. Is that understood?”

Plutarch unfurled himself and stood. He made one stride over to Tadashi, outstretching his hand. From the movement of Tadashi’s shoulders, it looked as though he took the hand into his own. 

The recording ended, and the screen on Baymax’s chest dimmed until it was invisible against the backdrop of white vinyl. Hiro found himself breathing heavily, his heart hammering against his chest wall. He turned his eyes away from Baymax and towards the blankets that covered his body. “That-” he began through shallow breaths, “That still doesn’t make any sense.” Hiro looked back at Baymax. “But, he died during the games, I saw him die.”

“Urban was saved by the Capitol in secret. They did not want his knowledge of medical mechanical engineering to be wasted. They kept him in a facility for four years where I was created to assist with medical procedures.” Baymax supplied, the cheeriness in his voice a sheer and drastic contrast to the situation he described. It was unsettling.

Hiro nodded; it made sense now. The odds were never stacked against Tadashi, which is why he had it so easy during the games while everyone else around him floundered. They wanted him to be the winner so they could use his genius later. The fire was probably meant to kill off the last remaining tributes while Tadashi waited safely by the pond. Hiro smirked as he came to discover the truth. “They didn’t expect Tadashi to try to save a fellow tribute.”

“Precisely.”

Hiro closed his eyes. He took one deep, shuddering breath. “Thanks Baymax, I’m… tired, I think I’ll go back to sleep.”

—-

Hiro awoke several hours later to the sound of the sliding glass door hissing until a quiet thud silenced it. He opened his eyes slowly, deliberately, finding that the deepness of his slumber had made his eyelids heavy; it was an unfamiliar feeling. He blinked away the remaining gloss of sleep from his eyes, and what met his cleared vision caused his heart to skip a beat.

Hiro stifled the gasp that threatened to erupt from his throat as Tadashi looked back at him, standing just inside of his room, wearing a grey jumpsuit and sporting a five o’clock shadow. His mind raced as it traced back the steps of his last waking memory. This wasn’t a nightmare, a dream or a hallucination; this was truly Tadashi, alive and just feet away from his reach.

“Hey,” he said lamely. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Hiro bit his bottom lip. Emotions so cutting tore at him until the pain he had suppressed for four years made itself felt. His vision blurred wetly. “It’s alright,” he replied hoarsely.

Tadashi’s downcast eyes filled with a heavy, but earnest emotion. Tadashi sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and looked away briefly. He swallowed audibly before he turned back to his little brother. “Hiro, I - you have to know if there was anyway I could have gotten to you -” Tadashi’s voice rushed out nearly hysterically. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hiro interrupted tenderly, “Baymax told me everything, I understand.”

Tadashi nodded, but he said nothing. He covered his face with his large hand. Soft sobs filtered through Tadashi’s fingers, dampening the room with anguish.

Hiro had never seen him like this, so sad and so broken. It made him ache.

“No,” Hiro moaned against the heartbreak, “Tadashi, just - come here, okay?”

Tadashi looked up at Hiro after wiping the wetness off of his cheeks. Much to the younger man’s relief, there was something other than sadness blooming in his eyes. He chuckling at the bound boy. “You’re not going to attack me again, are you?”

Hiro couldn’t help but laugh passed the hollowness in his stomach. “I couldn’t even if I tried.” He pulled at his restraints to reinforce his point.

Tadashi let out a quick “oh” sound. He made the few strides over to Hiro’s hospital bed. He unbelted Hiro’s right wrist, but before he could move to remove the left restraint, the other boy made quick work of unstrapping the leather contraption from his arm.

Hiro rubbed at his wrists. “Wow, being free feels amazing.” For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Hiro smiled genuinely.

“Sorry about that, we didn’t know how you would react when you woke up.”

Hiro nodded. His smile faltered by a fraction. “Yeah, um, sorry I freaked out on you.”

“It’s understandable, we did sort of spring this up on you.”

“We?” Hiro asked as he tilted his head away from his brother.

Tadashi looked away sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I actually came to tell you that once the doctor releases you, you are expected in command and we have to act like we don’t know each other.”

Hiro hummed in acknowledgement. “Baymax filled me in.” It then hit Hiro that he had not seen the robot since he awoke last. Hiro scanned the room, but their wasn’t a trace of the medical unit. “Where is he anyway?” 

Tadashi head perked, his eyes illuminated brightly. “He’s doing his rounds,” the man nearly chirped.

Hiro’s heart fluttered causing his chest to warm. He gulped against the dryness that suddenly plagued his throat. “Rounds? Like actual doctor rounds?”

Tadashi shook his head, but his smile didn’t falter. “Not yet, but he’s getting there. Right now he’s just scanning people, making sure his machinery is calibrated correctly.”

Hiro laughed lightly; it heartened him to know that Tadashi hadn’t changed too much, at least when it came to his projects. One of the quirks he had always remembered about his brother was his need to ensure the perfection of his seemingly never-ending projects, even when it was unnecessary.

“If you made him, genius, than he’s already there,” he complemented, although the words felt old and stale in his mouth.

The air seemed to change around Tadashi. The image of the big brother flickered and was replaced with that of the soldier. His features conformed to something more stoic, empty. “Thanks,” he said with little feeling, “Anyway, I have to get back to command before they notice I’m here.”

“Okay,” Hiro agreed, his voice nearly as emotionless as Tadashi’s.

As the older man left, Hiro wanted to reach out to him, to tell him to come back, to embrace him, to do and say all of the things he had wanted to when Tadashi was dead. But, he didn’t. He allowed Tadashi to leave the room and leave him alone.

Maybe, Hiro thought darkly, the Tadashi he knew was dead.

—-

The doctor released Hiro several hours later. He was sent to a central station in the hospital wing where a nurse, wearing the same bland uniform Tadashi had worn, handed him a similar set of clothes. She also instructed Hiro to set his wrist into a plastic cuff resting on the table. At first, Hiro thought it was to take one last reading of his blood pressure or heart rate; instead, a purple laser hummed to life, etching lines of words on the smooth skin of his wrist. He was momentarily horrified despite the lack of pain.

Once the contraption was done, Hiro extracted his arm. What Hiro quickly realized was a schedule had been tattooed on his arm with a faded purple ink. He looked at the nurse. He knew his mortification was evident on his face by the way she looked at him as though he were a child afraid of the dark. “It’s temporary,” she explained, “it washes off at bathing time. You get a new one everyday.”

That’s certainly new, Hiro thought to himself. Upon further inspection, he noticed that the schedule listed that he should head to command as soon as possible. Well, no need to argue orders so soon.

—-

The command room was a dimly lit, highly advanced, electronic war room. On the walls were all manner of radar and statistical data displayed on brightened screens. In the center of the room was a long, touchscreen table, displaying even more information about the rebellion efforts taking place outside. At the table sat Tadashi - Urban -, a woman with silver eyes and perfectly cascading hair, a man he recognized as Plutarch Heavensbee, and -

“Beetee!” Hiro practically shouted. He raced over to where his mentor sat and embraced him without forethought or preamble. When they reaped him for the Quarter Quell, Hiro thought it would be the last time he would ever see the only friend he had outside of his Aunt. It only added to his pain, his anger, his ambition to wrought out retribution from the Capitol. Seeing him, embracing him, had lightened a load on his chest he hadn’t realized was there.

“It’s good to see you too, Hiro.” The man patted his protege on the back.

Hiro pulled away. He stared down intently at him, as though to ensure he hadn’t hallucinated their reunion. That was when he realized the man was sitting in a wheelchair. Beetee nodded at him, and Hiro returned the gesture. He stood up straight and faced the other members in the group.

“Hiro,” Plutarch greeted, “I’m sure you know who I and Urban are by now.”

Tadashi simply gave a single nod in his direction, but said nothing. There was a fierceness in his eyes that matching the soldier’s uniform on his tall, built body. Such a look was unfamiliar to Hiro, and for the first time he could ever recall, he was afraid of him. This man, Urban, was not Tadashi. No, he was a stranger.

The greying woman, who looked to be just passed middle-age, stood and leaned forward toward Hiro. She outstretched her hand, which Hiro took mechanically. “I”m President Alma Coin, leader of District 13, it is very nice to meet you. I have heard many great things about you.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Hiro gave her a smile, the same crooked smile he displayed to the Capitol, or any figure of authority, “Only half of those things are true.”

Coin let go of his hand. Her expression remained pleasant, but there was something in her stature that Hiro didn’t like. She was too fixed, too still, but not tense. She was the tiger laying in wait among the tall grass poised to attack, and Hiro was her next meal. She wanted something from him, and she intended to do whatever it took to get it from him. “Well, I hope that your expertise in engineering is one of those things that is true.”

Hiro’s pretense fell as it became unnecessary. “Depends on what you want it used for.”

“This,” Plutarch said as he held what appeared to be a miniature hovercraft up above his head, “We need you to reverse engineer this drone so we can start manufacturing them here in-house.”

Hiro quirked an eyebrow. Such a thing was child’s play. Tadashi, or even Beetee, should have been able to do the same task. “Why me?”

Coin spoke first, “We can’t risk turning it on in case it’s being tracked, which adds a certain difficulty to the task.”

Beetee then supplied, “It also has a shielding technology I’ve never seen before. State of the art. Even with all of my expertise, it would take me years to recreate this.”

“And we don’t have years,” Coin said sternly, with a precision to her words that cut through any doubt of her sincerity, “Which is why we need you.”

Hiro took a step toward Plutarch and reached out for the drone. He handed it without a challenge. Hiro inspected the device, turning it at every angle. It was state of the art, for the Capitol, but it had its flaws. It was too big for it to be an effective drone, and even with its supposed shielding, the sunlight would reflect heavily on it. The Capitol didn’t invent this to not be seen, at least not without some difficulty, because they didn’t expect that it would need to be invisible; everyone already knew they were being watched. If anything, the shielding had probably been more about aesthetics than anything else.

Hiro dropped the toy on the table. “This is junk.”

Only Coin seemed to jump at the clatter it made on the glass. Plutarch smirked, Beetee gave him a knowing smile, and Tadashi half-heartedly tried to hide his good humor behind his fingers.

“Do you believe you can do better?” the woman asked sharply.

“Give me three days.” Hiro promised, voice betraying no doubt or apprehension.

Coin nodded, that pleasant mockery of a smile made it back on her lips. “No need, but we will monitor your progress after two weeks. If after two weeks you haven’t created something better, it is back to the original plan. Is that understood?”

Hiro couldn’t stop himself from smirking. They underestimated him. Good. “Clearly.”

“Good, I’ll have Urban escort you to the mess hall. I believe it is dinner time.”

—-

The mess hall was a misnomer. It was entirely too neat. From the bland food to the people, everything was in its order and place. Even when those in line were able to gather their food, they didn’t stand, look around with indecision, and finally find a place to sit. No, it seemed as though everyone was assigned a seat by some silent decree.

Tadashi followed him every step of the way, playing his part of the dutiful soldier well. Even as Hiro constantly looked up in his direction, as he had never grown tall enough to quite match Tadashi’s height, Tadashi never looked back down at him. His eyes were ever present elsewhere, but he did direct him with short, mild answers that seemed to be directed more to the ground than to him.

He led them to a round table where four others already sat. He recognized the tall blonde as Honey-Lemon, but he had no clue as to the others. One was a tall, broad shouldered man with dreadlocks. The other man was also tall, but lanky, and allowed his blonde hair to cascade down to his neck. There was one more girl who looked just as short as he was, and wore her black hair short, just below her chin.

“Hey Nii-san!” Honey-Lemon called out happily as they headed their way.

Tadashi didn’t sit, and instead inclined his head toward Hiro. “Everyone, this is Hiro. He’ll be joining us from now on.”

They all chattered their welcomes and well-wishes at him, but the words became cluttered and disjointed as they all competed for his attention. Hiro grinned and waved shyly. “Hi everyone.”

“So, you’re the robotics expert, huh?” the girl with the black hair asked, the word “you’re” dripping with doubt.

Hiro didn’t blame her. He looked more like a child than a super genius. He stood just under five foot seven, had a gap between his two front teeth, and baby fat clung stubbornly to his hairless cheeks. Even the rabbit’s tail his hair was pulled into made him look abnormally young, although he had neither the time or patience to maintain it short.

“Yup, that’s me.” Hiro tried to chirp, but it sounded more like a croak. His legs trembled as he found a seat between the aggressive girl and Honey-Lemon. Tadashi took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Aww,” Honey-Lemon squealed, “No need to be nervous, that’s just how GoGo is.”

“Yeah,” the lanky one exclaimed excitedly, “She practically punched me when I first met her. I’m Fred, by the way.”

“And I’m Wasabi,” the other man introduced.

Honey-Lemon, GoGo, Wasabi - Hiro wasn’t sure if the group was just quirky or insane.

“Fred came up with the nicknames,” Tadashi explained, as though he could read his thought. Hiro didn’t doubt that he could. Tadashi had always read him fairly well, and four years apart probably did little to diminish that ability.

“They’re not nicknames, they’re codenames,” Fred corrected, “What rebels don’t have codenames?”

Hiro laughed heartily until tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

—-

The rest of dinner went by quickly. Hiro learned a lot of his new crew. GoGo was an expert in electromagnetism and was working in the lab to create transportation vehicles. Honey-Lemon was a chemical engineer, although she was unable to specify what kind of project she was working on, stating blithely that it was classified. Wasabi was in the same medical informatics group as Tadashi, working on lasers that could be used for more accurate surgical procedures. The conversation had put him at an ease he hadn’t felt in years. In fact, he reflected on how boring his project was compared to what he had been doing previously, not to mention what his new friends were working on currently.

All too soon, the schedule on all their arms reminded them that it was time to get back to their units. Tadashi escorted Hiro back to his unit with the same cool indifference he displayed when he took him to the mess hall. It wasn’t until the door to Hiro’s room shut behind them that Tadashi became more animated. He described the room, where his things went, that the door on the far side led to a shared bathroom between them, but stopped to ask, “What?”

Hiro let out a loud breath through his nose. “You ignore me all day and then all of the sudden we’re peachy?”

“Hiro-” Tadashi began gently, but was interrupted by a knocking at the door.

He swiped his keycard over the sensor next to the door handle. Once it turned green, he slid the door open. There stood a young girl with two long, blonde ponytails spilling over her slim shoulders. Her profile seemed recognizable, but it wasn’t until he saw her blue eyes that Hiro’s memory was sparked. With a sickening horror he realized the little girl on the other side of the door was Primrose Everdeen, the sister of Katniss Everdeen.

Hiro’s emotions were felt freely and without qualms. He was generous with his loyalty, his love, and his hate. But if he had to point out an individual he hated the most, it was Katniss Everdeen. While he had thought his brother dead, the girl on fire was adored for volunteering for her sibling, as though it had not been done before. Tadashi’s memory was replaced by her, and he was left to be forgotten even after his honest and noble sacrifice. Why? Because she had a lover and he did not? Not that he bought the love story one bit.

Would he have been remembered if only he had a tragic love story? If only he had said he had a girl back home?

It didn’t matter, because she became the girl on fire, the symbol of the rebellion, the bastion of hope while his brother was erased. His brother who was good and honest for the sake of being good and honest was transposed with a liar who couldn’t care less for other people.

“I came to bring Baymax back,” Prim said. She held out a red case in front of her.

“Thanks, Prim.” Tadashi took the case from her.

Prim looked into the room and at Hiro. She offered him a small smile, but he turned away, unable to face the ugly feelings he felt about her or her family.

Prim quietly said her goodbyes and left.

Hiro looked back toward the door and at Tadashi. His brother turned around, a tick evident in his jaw.

“I know you’re in a mood, but there’s no reason to take it out on a little girl.” Tadashi scolded, just like how he used to, but it just made Hiro feel heavier. “You never used to be this much of a jerk, Hiro. Have you really changed that much?”

Hiro snapped. He pushed his brother’s shoulders back, because - how dare he? Of course he changed. While he was still alive, living a relatively decent life, knowing full well that his loved ones were still alive, Hiro had to mourn the passing of his brother, the only person he truly loved with all of his being. Tadashi left a black hole inside of him that consumed everything; his love, his compassion, his very decency.

Hiro couldn’t fight the hot, angry tears that spilled freely down his reddened cheeks. “I. Hate. Her. I hate her, and I hate District 13. I hate the Capitol and I hate the games. I hate the stranger you’ve become to me.” Tadashi’s face broke more and more with each word, but Hiro couldn’t stop. “When you left, my heart died, Tadashi. And what was left behind was a grave filled with everything I ever hated until I was nothing but rage.”

Tadashi outstretched his arms and tried to hold him, just like he used to when he was scared or hurt. Hiro knocked his arms away.

“The very second I saw you die, I lost everything. So, yes, I’ve changed.”

Tadashi turned to stone. After several long moments of tense, unbearable silence, Tadashi asked in a faint whisper, “What do you want from me, Hiro?”

Hiro shook his head; even after everything, Tadashi still only gave and gave.

Hiro pawed at the wetness on his face until the only reminder of his outburst was the heaviness he felt at the bridge of his nose. “I just need to be alone for a little while, okay?”

Tadashi nodded. He exited his room through their shared bathroom. Hiro had never felt more alone.


	4. Come Away to the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come away little lass  
> Come away to the water  
> To the ones that are waiting only for you  
> Come away little lass  
> Come away to the water  
> Away from the life that you always knew  
> We are calling to you  
> Come away little light  
> Come away to the darkness  
> In the shade of the night we’ll come looking for you  
> Come away little light  
> Come away to the darkness  
> To the ones appointed to see it through  
> We are calling for you  
> We are coming for you

Hiro felt like a crumpled piece of paper when he awoke. He lay on his side, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He was still in his grey jumpsuit, and the stiff material clung to him uncomfortably in most areas. His sore arms pillowed his pounding head crudely, only adding to the stiffness in his neck. It was far from comfortable. 

He unfolded himself achingly slow, allowing his muscles to stretch and his joints to pop loudly, until he was in a sitting position. His half-lidded, crusted eyes could only make out the faintest outlines of the furniture in his darkened room. He glanced over at the nightstand sitting by his bed; the LED display on the clock informed him that it was just passed midnight. Hiro groaned inwardly. 

He wondered briefly if District 13 shut the water off after the posted bathing time. After the briefest debate within himself, he went to the bathroom to test out his inquiry. 

The lights in the bathroom powered on automatically as he entered. The bathroom was longer than it was wide, and it was the epitome of space utilization. Although tiny, it fit all the necessary components neatly. A medicine cabinet with mirrored doors hung above the box sink and counter, which rested against the stone shower stall. Further into the room, next to Tadashi’s door, was a grey privacy stall that Hiro assumed hid the toilet. 

Hiro yawned as he made his way to the shower. He leaned in to push the dial underneath the shower head, but he stopped himself when he heard a whining noise come from Tadashi’s room. The noise was then followed by the sound of rustling fabric, and then heavy, erratic breathing. 

Without much thought, Hiro galloped to the door and, to his momentary surprise at finding it unlocked, slid it open. Inside, the room looked remarkably like his own. It seemed hardly used, as there weren’t clothes or personal effects strewn throughout the space. The only thing that seemed amply used was the bed, where Tadashi twitched and kicked underneath the blankets. 

Hiro made his way to his brother’s side. Just as he reached it, however, he hesitated; he had never confronted someone in the middle of a nightmare before. When he was child, he had them frequently, and Tadashi had always seemed to know how to awaken him in a place that was safe and warm. He wondered how he was supposed to do that on the flipside. 

He reached a shivering arm out toward Tadashi’s shoulder. When his fingertips, one after another, met his bare shoulder, Hiro felt oddly relieved. Okay, step one was completed. He breathed in deeply, soothing his frayed nerves. He pushed lightly at the warm flesh. Tadashi groaned, shifted his head back and forth, but did not awaken. 

Hiro stamped his foot while biting back a whine. This would be much more difficult than he had first anticipated. 

Hiro’s palm joined his fingertips. He moved his hand back and forth, shaking the older man underneath his touch. 

Tadashi’s eyes flew open as his upper body shot straight upwards. He gasped for air, as though he had just surfaced from a body of water. His wild eyes shifted over to Hiro. 

Hiro gulped. He wanted so much to know how to soothe Tadashi, to calm his labored breathing, to still his trembling chest, but he was helpless. He stood speechless and unmoving. He tried to will his brain to think of something, but no thoughts would penetrate the fog of panic that clouded his mind. 

A quiet whisper of his name was the only warning he received before he was suddenly pulled into a sitting position on the bed and taken into a vice grip. Hiro could feel his ribs protest against the tight grip of Tadashi's arms. It became harder and harder to breathe as he was pressed further and further against his brother's firm chest. This hold felt too strong, too powerful, nothing like the tender embraces he received years passed. 

Hiro placed a tentative hand on his brother's back and ran his fingers reluctantly up and down the flesh over his spine. After an eternal minute, Tadashi's hold eased. "I'm sorry," he heard him whisper hoarsely against the crook of his shoulder. 

"It's okay," Hiro said robotically. He patted his brother on the back, but inwardly cringed afterwards. He knew the gesture was probably the opposite of comforting, but he didn’t know what else to do. 

Tadashi gradually pulled away. He gave Hiro a small smile that didn’t quite match with the rest of his expression.“You should go back to bed.” 

Hiro nodded, but the gravity of Tadashi’s slouching shoulders and shimmering eyes kept him sitting by the man. He didn’t quite want to stay, but he didn’t quite want to leave either, not until he knew his brother would survive the night no worse for wear. “Will you be okay?” 

“Mhmm,” Tadashi hummed as he took his head in his hands. “I’ll be fine, I just - sorry.” 

Hiro fought against the bubble of irritation in his lungs. Of course Tadashi would say he was fine even as pieces of him fell away. He could visibly see his brother try to pull himself together, but he cared more for someone else’s comfort than his own sanity. Even so, it wasn’t as though Hiro was a child and new to terror. He understood all too well of the demons that lurked at night. 

Hiro clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Quit apologizing, numbskull. I get them too.” 

Tadashi looked up at Hiro. His features were placid, but a sorrow continued to storm in his eyes. “Nightmares?” 

Hiro hummed in agreement. “I know I wasn’t in the games, but seeing them - seeing you - those were the worst moments of my life. It’s hard not to replay those memories over and over again.” 

Tadashi let out an uneven breath through his nose. “I’m sorry I put you through that, Hiro. Watching me ..die must have been so hard for you.” 

Hiro laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not even sure if that was sarcasm, or if you’re martyr-complex is that huge.” 

Tadashi punched Hiro lightly on the shoulder. The gesture elicited a surprised yelp, but it was not painful. In fact, Hiro could feel something warm and comfortable blooming in his chest from the microaggression. 

“I mean it, jerk,” Tadashi said lightly, a ghost of a chuckle just behind his words. “I’m not going to say that actually being there wasn’t difficult, but watching it and being helpless, it isn’t easy.” 

Tadashi spoke from experience, Hiro came to find quickly. All those years of watching the games, seeing children line up for the slaughter, carrying their souls with him, it must’ve took its toll. Hiro felt a singular loss; Tadashi felt hundreds. While Hiro’s pain was a gunshot, upfront and personal, burning a hole out that festered in an ugly way, Tadashi’s pain was a cancer. For years, it crippled his flesh and wore down his bones as he helplessly watched the Capitol’s cruel hand steal more and more lives. Each child’s face must have been tattooed underneath his eyelids for years now, staring into his withering soul as he slept at night. It was with that sudden realization that any misplaced anger he felt towards the cold change in his brother was washed away. 

Of course Tadashi had changed, just like he had. He was good, but he wasn’t a heavenly being. No one leaves the arena without ghosts, but Tadashi had the misfortune of being born with a heart so big it carried all of them. It was only natural that his experience in the games and in the Capitol, being forced to work for those who had carved out his insides, would be the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. 

“I-I’m sorry for freaking out on you,” Hiro whispered under his breath. 

Tadashi chuckled softly. “I told you, I get it. We -” 

“No, no,” Hiro interrupted, shaking his head. “I mean - when I said that I hated the stranger you became. It’s only natural that you changed, too, after all that’s happened.” 

Tadashi tilted his head to the side. “Changed?” 

Hiro’s eyebrow quirked. Did he really not see it? “Y’know, you now have this whole rebel soldier vibe going on,” he said as he gestured over his brother, “You’re all like ‘sir yes sir’ and hardly spoke to me at all, unless you were playing tour guide.” 

Tadashi snorted. The earlier darkness that shadowed over his older brother’s face all but dissipated. "Um, that whole thing is an act, I just didn’t want them to think I knew you, or something." 

Oh. 

Oh, the poor idiot. Hiro chuckled underneath the hand that made its way to his mouth. “Wow, you still suck at acting.” 

Tadashi gave Hiro’s shoulder a small push. “I’d like to think I’ve gotten better.”

“You can think all you want, more power to you, but you have no clue how to go about this.” 

Tadashi leaned away from Hiro. The smallest hint of a smirk twitched at the corner of his upper lip. He folded his arms over his chest. “Enlighten me.” 

Hiro gave a dramatic sigh as he looked upwards toward the ceiling. “Well,” he dragged out, “If you insist.” 

"I do."

Hiro grinned broadly. "Acting is all about subtlety. Don't be someone else entirely, you have to be you in a different situation.” 

“That’s what I thought I was doing,” Tadashi replied meekly. His lips made an exaggerated pout. 

Hiro shook his head as he tried to keep his amused smile down. "Tadashi, you know no stranger. You’re always nice and cordial to everyone, even if you’ve never seen them before. You have to treat me the same.” 

“Even after you viciously attacked me?” Tadashi chuckled as he ruffled his brother’s long bangs. 

Hiro returned the laugh, but pushed his brother’s hand away. “Yes, because now that we’ve put aside our differences, as you are always wont to do with people, you’ll treat me like family.” 

“So, starting tomorrow, I treat you like my little brother?” 

Hiro shrugged. “Maybe not so affectionate, but you know, don’t be a complete jerk to me.” 

Without warning, Tadashi reached out and pulled Hiro into his arms once more. The younger brother was momentarily stunned. The embrace was nowhere near as strong as Tadashi’s earlier hold, but Hiro still felt his lungs constrict tightly. His heartbeat raced painfully inside his chest while his stomach did spectacular acrobatics, making him feel slightly sick. He flushed warmly. 

This cuddle was reminiscent of the ones Tadashi used to give, so Hiro didn’t know why he felt like this. Even the innocent kiss Tadashi planted on his forehead, a kiss he had received countless of times before his elder brother’s departure, seemed far too intimate. Hiro was also uncomfortably aware of the way his brother’s upper body dipped and raised in certain areas against his arm, and how Tadashi’s heat radiated strongly from his bare skin. He gulped thickly. 

“Okay,” Tadashi agreed, his voice thick and heavy (or did Hiro imagine that?), “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. From now on, I’ll be normal.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hiro stuttered out through a shiver. 

Tadashi, to Hiro’s immediate relief, released his hold on his younger brother. “You should go back to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.” 

Hiro nodded wordlessly before scampering out of the room. 

\---

Tadashi’s clock shrilled. His heavy lids blinked several times before he managed, with great effort, to keep them open. The clock read 0630. 

He reached a lead-heavy arm out toward the rectangular device on his night stand. Oddly disoriented, it took him several tries to find the long button on the top of the alarm that would turn it off. Once his fingers found the black on/off switch, he slapped it until the sweet sound of silence filled the room. 

Tadashi yawned. He felt off, weighty, almost as though gravity had increased overnight. It was an endeavor to push the blankets, which seemed warmer and more comfortable than usual, off of him. He dragged his legs over to the edge of the bed and allowed his feet to fall unceremoniously onto the floor, causing twin sounds of thumping to reverberate throughout the room. As he attempted to stand, he almost collapsed back onto the bed. 

What was wrong with him? He thought to himself as he walked like a newborn calf to the bathroom. Was he sick? Would he need Baymax to scan him? He had never felt like this before, so groggy and incoherent. He was generally a morning person, as he appreciated the promise of a new day away from the terrors that plagued him at night. Usually within moments of his eyes opening, he was steady and alert, able to do any of his morning rituals with nearly no effort at all. This was certainly different. 

It wasn't the only thing that was different. With that secondary thought, he realized that after Hiro had left his room the previous night, his mind had drifted into a blank state of nothingness. It explained a lot, that was for certain. This feeling of each limb coming back to life achingly slow was the result of a lack of nightmare-induced adrenaline saturating his muscles, he was sure of that now. It was nice in a strange way. 

A tertiary thought struck him at the thought of his little brother; that's right, he set his alarm early so that he could wake Hiro. District 13, in a lot of ways, was nearly as oppressive as the Capitol when it came to their rules. Even hoarding a single piece of food could result in serious jail time, or even worse. Not adhering to the schedule was very much looked down upon, and although it wasn’t an offense that would be punished with imprisonment, it did affect the way Hiro would be treated by the rest of the District. If Hiro was still anything like the fourteen year-old he had left, then he could use all of the best first impressions he could get. 

Tadashi opened the bathroom door and was struck by the sound of water hitting the shower floor. “Hiro?” he called out. 

A small yelp came from the shower stall. “Geez Tadashi, give me a heart attack why don’t you?” 

Tadashi smirked, but his body was still too tired to produce a sound of amusement. “Sorry,” he apologized half-heartedly, “I didn’t expect you to be up.” 

“I decided to get up early and take a shower. I didn’t want to feel like a pile of garbage all day.” 

Although that explained very little as to how his infernally lazy brother managed to awaken himself so early without assistance from another human being, Tadashi was satisfied with the response. With his mission already completed for him, he contemplated going back to sleep, but decided against it. It would only make him feel worse later, he reasoned. 

He padded over to the sink and proceeded to wash the crust from his eyes and the drool from the corner of his mouth with warm water. When he looked up into the mirror to inspect his work, he was shocked to find that the shadows that seemed to have been permanently painted underneath his eyes were now gone. In fact, the rest of his face, while still pale, looked healthier, younger. Could sleeping soundly for a few hours really have done all this? 

Just as he inspected himself further, the sound of running water stopped. “Tadashi?” Hiro’s voice sounded tentative. 

“Yeah?” 

“Um, I just remembered that I forgot my towel, can you grab it for me?” he asked in a voice that belonged to someone who was far younger than his eighteen years. Tadashi felt his cheeks ache from the force of his grin. 

“Sure.” 

\---

Hiro inwardly groaned as he heard Tadashi make his way out of the bathroom and into his room. His mind played a devilish trick by conjuring a scene of Tadashi entering the shower stall, without clothes adorning his toned body. His lips would be curved into a playful smirk, and he would use the towel in his hands to molest Hiro’s over sensitive body until he cried out for mercy. 

Hiro outwardly groaned, slapping his heated forehead against the cool shower stall. Suffering through his cold shower had been for naught; his groin throbbed nearly painfully between his legs. 

Last night had been fraught with strange dreams and visions, just like every other night since the day Tadashi left for the arena, but while his mind usually replayed the violence and chaos of his past, his last dream was exceedingly more sensual in nature. It wasn’t the first time, or even the hundredth time, that Hiro dreamt of his brother in such an unusual way. However, Tadashi’s touches would be fragmented while his image remained ghostly. Each time, Hiro awakened confoundingly frustrated, but comforted himself by explaining away the feverish images as a normal part of the grieving process. At the time, he was developing into his manhood, so it would only be natural that his pubescent state would twist sorrow and lust together. 

His dream last night was not such a case. Tadashi was satisfyingly solid as he rutted inside of him, causing Hiro to mewl, moan, whimper and groan until he awoke as a bundle of overstimulated nerves. It didn’t make any sense; he had come to find his brother very much alive and so he no longer grieved for him. The fact that Hiro felt himself get heated by his brother’s presence the previous night only compounded his confusion. 

Maybe, just maybe, it was still just hormonal? He had never explored his sexuality, not truly, due to the singular purpose he had placed for himself. Maybe he was just coming to find his attraction to men? Tadashi was the only man he had any true interaction with, in fact, his brother had stolen his first and last kiss. He was also very attractive, objectively, of course. Yes, that was it; Tadashi was the focus of his attraction merely due to his proximity. 

“Here you go,” Tadashi announced as he thrust his arm through the shower curtain, towel in hand. Hiro rushed to grab the towel, but in his haste, he accidentally brushed his hand over Tadashi’s. The touch sparked an ember of fire that coursed through his body. 

Ugh, today was going to be a long day. 

\---

After breakfast, Hiro looked down at his wrist where the schedule dictated that he would be working in the lab until combat training in the afternoon. After combat training, he was scheduled for a lunch before going back to the lab. The last slab of lab time was followed by a half an hour period of “reflection”, what ever that was, then dinner, then bathing time, and then lights out. Hiro felt himself grow uncomfortable; even in District 3, his life was never dictated so meticulously, with every second accounted for. 

Tadashi led him to the robotics lab. There, he was awestruck by the level of activity all around him. It seemed as though every single one of the dozens of people working within the same room were enraptured by their own project. Some worked at their desks while others tested out their prototypes on a raised platform in the back. There was chatter, exclamations of success and frustrated muttering to be heard. No single guard was in sight. It was so unlike the laboratories in District 3, where everyone was expected to work silently in their own space as peacekeepers made their rounds up and down the rows of cubicles. 

Hiro could get used to this. 

“Hiro,” Tadashi interrupted his whimsical reverie, “Before I show you to your desk, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” 

They approached the back of a tall, averagely built man standing off to the side of the testing area. From what Hiro could make out, he seemed very intent on the scientists who were testing out their prototypes. 

“Doctor Callaghan,” Tadashi called out inquisitively. 

The man turned around. He was an older gentlemen with greying hair, pale skin, and lines etched on his forehead and underneath his grey eyes. His expression was warm, comforting in a strange way, like seeing a grandfather or an uncle. 

“Hello Urban,” he greeted with a small smile, “I see you brought our newest recruit.” 

Tadashi looked down at Hiro. “Hiro-” Tadashi looked back at Callaghan, “-this is Doctor Callaghan, he is the head of the robotics department here in District 13. He’ll be your new boss from now on.” 

Callaghan chuckled. “So formal, Urban, please, call me Robert.” The man - Robert - held out his hand. Hiro took it into his own and shook it once before his new supervisor pulled it away. “Boss is kind of a strong term, think of me as your teacher, Hiro.” 

“Definitely,” Hiro said without really thinking about it. 

“I look forward to seeing your new drone design.” Callaghan gave him a single nod before turning his attention back to Tadashi, “Urban, why don’t you show Hiro where he’ll be working.” 

Tadashi nodded. He placed a hand on Hiro’s shoulder and guided him gently in the direction of a doorway on the far wall of the laboratory. The door looked like any other in District 13, grey and without any identifiable markings, with the exception of a small, flatscreen situated at eye-level. It was currently black, and Hiro wondered briefly what it was used for. Before he could ponder the matter further, Tadashi took out a keycard from his pocket and scanned it over the sensor next to where a door handle should have been. The sensor turned green just as the door opened with an audible “whoosh”. 

The room inside was small, just about the size of his living quarters, but held all manner of machinery and equipment. Shelving on the side walls organized most of the hardware, but the 3-D printer took its own space in the left most corner of the office. On the opposite wall was a desk with a touch activated display. Oh, yes, he really could get used to this. 

“Wow,” Hiro muttered out loud. “Is your office this cool, too?” 

Tadashi chuckled. He ruffled his little brother’s hair. “I’m stationed at a desk in the front. You and Doctor Callaghan are the only ones with a private office. ” 

Hiro turned towards his brother. “Wait, why?” 

“Callaghan is the lead scientist in the robotics division, and you’re working on a project of the utmost importance to the District,” Tadashi explained as though it were a matter of fact. 

Tadashi looked down at Hiro. His eyes expressed a mixture of affection and pride and other loving emotions that Hiro found too difficult to describe. It was the same look Tadashi used to give him back in District 3 when he accomplished something positive. Hiro had strived to receive that look when he was younger, wanting so much for the validation that came with his brother’s adoration. Hiro felt something heavy behind his eyes. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to your work, Mr. Hamada!” Tadashi said as he departed with a wink and a wave of his hand. The door whooshed behind him. 

Time to show them what you’re made of, Hiro thought to himself before making his way to the holographic display table. 

\---

When time for combat training came, Hiro only had loose ideas and half-finished designs mapped out. It’s alright, he consoled himself, he still had some time later to work. 

\---

The elevator was packed to the brim with robotics scientists who were all headed to the above ground training area. Tadashi had explained, as they rode the wave of bodies, that the each person’s scheduled time for combat training was based on their title. This explained why, eerily on the dot, each one of Hiro and Tadashi’s peers stopped what they were working on and formed two perfect lines that led to the elevator. 

Hiro had assumed that meant that he would be joining his fellow scientists in combat training, but Tadashi stopped the elevator before everyone else’s intended exit. He inclined his head to indicate for Hiro to follow him. Despite his errant doubt, he stepped off of the elevator. 

“I thought we were going to go to combat training,” Hiro posed the silent question.

Tadashi looked down at him. His smile was reassuring, but he was no less confused. “We are.” 

“Then?” Hiro’s word stretched passed its single syllable. 

“You’ll see.” 

Hiro desperately wanted to be irritated at the playful, knowing smirk plastered crudely on Tadashi’s face, but he was forced to admit that the gesture was oddly endearing. God knew why. 

\---

Tadashi opened the door to what was known as the special weapons and combat room. It was an exaggerated title that meant very little in terms of the room’s actual purpose, which was to fashion weapons for the specific individuals vital to District 13’s rebellion. Its secondary purpose, the reason why they were there and not above ground, was to provide special training to young adults, most of whom were refugees of other districts, who were not yet on par with the rest of District 13’s warriors.

While Tadashi had no doubt that Hiro’s combat ability was at par, if not better, than District 13’s soldiers, he wasn’t supposed to know that. When Command had informed him that Hiro would join his private class until he was caught up with the rest of his peers, he said nothing. He planned to enjoy his time with Hiro until they deemed him fit to join with the rest of his intended group. 

Through the door, both brothers could see that Honey, GoGo, Wasabi and Fred were already waiting for them. They sat around a long table, too busy chattering amongst themselves to notice the two men walking up behind them. On the table itself, weaponry of all shapes and sizes lay before them neatly, almost as though it were a technology platter. 

Hiro pulled out a chair next to Fred, silencing the crowd momentarily. Tadashi walked around the table while Hiro sat down at his chosen seat. They were both greeted warmly, although the crowd’s attention was more on the newcomer than on Tadashi. They swarmed him with various questions about his well being: how was he feeling? did he get enough sleep? was he getting enough to eat? how was his project going? It warmed his heart to know that his friends welcomed him so easily into their ranks, and Hiro did his best to show the same level of interaction despite the sudden bombardment of communication. 

“Alright, alright,” Tadashi cut through the noise, “we can bother Hiro during lunch, but right now we need to focus on our favorite exercise: ranged weapon practice.” 

There was a collective groan from the rest of the group. Hiro, head tilted and eyebrow high on his forehead, asked “What? Sounds like fun to me!” 

GoGo gave him an incredulous look. “If it’s so much fun, why don’t you go first?” 

It took all of Tadashi’s willpower to fight back the smirk that twitched at his upper lip. 

Hiro shook his head and waved his arms in front of him. “No, no,” he stuttered out, “I’m not any good.” 

It was convincing, Tadashi had to give him that, but he could see the predatory calculation in Hiro’s eyes. Some things never changed; whether it was for fortune or admiration, Hiro could hustle anything out of anyone. Tadashi should have been mortified. Back in their home district, he was constantly chasing after his little brother, making sure he didn’t manipulate the wrong person. Here, in the safety of District 13, he found the act almost seductive. Hiro was equal parts charming and intelligent, making it so very difficult to not fall under his spell. Tadashi knew that this attraction was immoral, both in its condoning of his deceit and the fact that they were brothers. 

Well, not anymore, not in a way that mattered. No amount of wishes or prayers could ever help him escape his biology; he made peace with that after so many years of longing. But, in District 13, he wasn't Tadashi Hamada, he was Urban from the Capitol. Urban could have a crush on Hiro without doubt or self-reproach. He could admire the genius, who was the only other person that could understand him and his projects. He didn’t have to feel ashamed for feeling special and adored in the younger man’s presence. He could fall in love with Hiro, because distance and time had put so much space between the two that they were hardly anything other than childhood friends. 

Not that he hoped that his feelings would be reciprocated, but it was at least nice to allow himself to feel his emotions. 

A roar of encouragement shook him from his contemplation. The group hollered until Hiro finally stood from his chair. “Okay,” he dragged out the word in a single exasperated breath, “I’ll do it.” The group cheered. 

Hiro walked slowly along the edge of the table. His eyes flickered back and forth between each of the long-ranged weapons that lay before him, but Tadashi knew that this was also part of the act. It was no accident that Hiro reached a halting hand out to the throwing knives on the table. He picked them up slowly, almost as though he were afraid of them, and inspected their sharp points for several moments. 

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Tadashi called out to his younger brother. 

Hiro approached the platform where the circular targets were stationed in four neat rows. “I’m ready.” 

Tadashi started the simulation with a press of the small remote control on the table. The first and third rows stayed stationary, but the second and fourth rows moved from the left to the right in different intervals. Hiro took a deep breath before throwing the knife in his hand clumsily at the closest target. He missed. 

He turned towards the group, a wince evident on his face. “Can I start over?” 

Tadashi crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned back against the table.“You can have as many tries as you’d like.” 

Hiro’s wince melted into a wicked smile. He winked at Tadashi. “Thanks, teach.” 

Tadashi felt his face heat and his heart jump to a gallop. 

Hiro’s stance changed. He placed his left foot forward before leaning back on his right leg. He held the next knife in a modified hammer grip, placing an index finger straight against the handle while the rest of his fingers curled around it. He leaned back, bending his elbow at a ninety degree angle. He took in a deep breath and threw the knife with a flick of his wrist. It struck the bullseye of the center-left target. 

The group let out loud whoops and cheers. Even GoGo, who was apt to give little more than acknowledging smiles, clapped loudly. 

Tadashi grinned. “Alright, hotshot, why don’t you keep going and show us what you can really do?” 

Hiro turned towards the group. His head was bowed and he looked at them meekly through his dark bangs. “That was just lucky,” he explained in a small voice, “I probably can’t do it again.” 

“You won't know unless you try, Hiro!” Honey-Lemon encouraged with a broad grin and vigorous nodding. The rest of the group voiced their agreement. 

“O-Okay.” Hiro faced the targets again. One by one, he threw the knives in his hand. He hit the deadcenter of each non-moving target Hiro had more trouble with the mobile targets, but still hit almost all of them just outside of the innermost ring. The only one he completely missed was the fastest target in the farthest corner of the training area, but he was still granted shouts of joy for at least hitting the board. He turned around and gave his cheering audience an exaggerated bow. 

Tadashi clapped slowly. “That was pretty good.” 

“Pretty good?” Fred chimed in, “Try ‘amazing’” 

“Better than the rest of us, that’s for sure," Wasabi agreed. 

Hiro scoffed, “Come on, guys, you’ve been training in this stuff all your life, right?” 

A shadow fell over the table. They all averted their gaze away from Hiro. Collectively, they tensed; Fred played with his thumbs, Gogo kicked her feet, Wasabi bit his lip, and Honey-Lemon played with her hair. Even Tadashi had to control the trembling in his hand as apprehension creeped inside his lungs. 

Hiro’s smirk fell away. “You guys are from District 13, right?” 

Honey-Lemon’s eyes darted between Hiro and the far wall. “Not exactly, Hiro,” she mumbled. 

“Woman up, people!” GoGo commanded with a growl as she turned to face each of her peers, ending with Hiro. “Hiro, we’re all from the Capitol.” 

Tadashi expected the worst; he expected Hiro to shout, to scream, to call them murderers or monsters, just as the rest of District 13 had when they first arrived. He could understand it, even if the jeers were far from deserved. The Capitol did benefit off the backs of the first twelve districts and forced the thirteenth into a literal cave, but it wasn’t as though its citizens were even aware of what life was like outside of their utopia. If he hadn’t convinced his friends to join him, they may have never know what life was like in the districts. 

Tadashi prepared to defend his friends against Hiro’s misplaced anger, but the worst never came. Instead, Hiro shrugged nonchalantly. “You guys are here now.” 

Tadashi and Hiro were soon swept into a group hug. 

\---

As Tadashi watched the rest of the crew try their hands at throwing knives, he wondered if there was such a word or phrase for the type of embarrassment someone felt on behalf of someone else. Second-hand embarrassment? Vicarious embarrassment? 

Hiro tried his best to teach the group the proper stances and maneuvers, but as Wasabi shouted in frustration after his twentieth attempt, “We’re nerds! We don’t know how to fight!” 

Tadashi knew it was true, that their skillset wasn’t in combat and that their time would be much better spent in their respective laboratories. Still, it was nice for everyone to be together outside of mealtime. 

\---

Lunch came and went. Too soon after, Hiro’s scheduled time in the laboratory also flew by. 

By the time Hiro was supposed to head to “reflection”, he had nothing to show for the near day he had spent drawing up designs. Each one failed more miserably than the last. The animated recycle bin icon at the corner of his workspace was mockingly filled to the brim with deleted files. Hiro slapped his forehead down on the workstation 

Hiro heard the sound of the door opening behind him. Knowing that the intruder was Tadashi, as he was the only other person with a key to the office, he had no qualms about repeatedly slamming his head on the desk. 

“Useless, empty, brain,” he said, punctuating each word with a new assault on his skull. 

“Washed up at eighteen? How sad!” Tadashi said, his voice equal parts snide and solemn. 

Hiro groaned. He leaned back in his chair and placed his palms against his shut eyes. “At this rate, I might as well just start working on reverse engineering that drone.” 

Hiro’s wrists were pulled away from him to reveal how unbearably close Tadashi’s face was to his own. With astounding clarity, Hiro could see the depth of his honey-brown eyes and the length of the lashes above them. Hiro, horrified and ashamed, noticed how silky his brother’s lips looked and how easy it would be to close the gap between them. He swallowed passed his suddenly dry throat. 

“Come on, Hiro, it’s time to shake things up a bit!” Tadashi released his hold on Hiro’s wrists and patted his knees. “Reflection time!” 

\---

Reflection time, apparently, meant more combat training. 

They entered the training room and found it devoid of any other life. Tadashi quickly made his way to the table and picked up the freshly sharpened throwing knives and remote control lying on its surface. He motioned for Hiro to follow him to the platform. 

“So, I noticed that you still can’t hit a moving target,” Tadashi explained slyly, obviously not trying to hide any of his mockery under a veil of polite niceties. 

It was true, though. Movement had always been Hiro’s downfall. He could hit a target at almost any possible distance, but if it moved, he always seemed to just miss the mark. His older brother had seen that firsthand when he taught Hiro how to throw the knives they made from scrap metal in District 3. Hiro had gotten better with practice, having kept their Sunday afternoon tradition alive even after -

Hiro’s eyes narrowed to sharp points. “What do you mean? I hit almost all of my targets.” 

Tadashi chuckled richly. Hiro felt the nerves at the ends of his body tingle. “You’ve gotten better, but your technique isn’t there yet.” Tadashi stepped to the side and gestured for Hiro to take his place. 

When Hiro made his stance at the center of the platform, Tadashi strode right behind him. The older man was so close to Hiro it was impossible not to feel his heat along his back. Hiro hoped, silently, that he didn’t notice the shiver that ran along his spine. Control yourself, he admonished internally. 

“First, your stance is too rigid,” Tadashi chided gently as he leaned over his shoulder. His words rumbled pleasantly through Hiro’s ear and travelled down to his fluttering chest. Hiro gulped. 

Tadashi gave him an airy chuckle. He placed his hands firmly on Hiro’s upper arms and shook him back and forth. “Come on, relax, loosen up.” 

“You’re making that kinda difficult, bro,” Hiro muttered under his breath. 

Tadashi stopped his assault, and instead, rubbed Hiro’s arms gently. It was far from an improvement. He still felt tense under his brother’s touch, but only because of how lovely it was. It shouldn’t have felt that way. Hiro should have felt irritated. Hiro should have wanted to push him away. Instead, he just wanted to lean back and close the gap between them. 

Hiro shook away his intrusive thoughts and focused on relaxing his stance. He loosened his limbs and shifted his weight off of his right leg. It felt slightly unnatural after spending years training himself to be rigid and in control, but he could already feel a difference in his mobility.  
“There you go,” Tadashi encouraged in a low voice. The ghost of his words pressed against Hiro’s cheek, causing his face to flush. “Okay, now, when I start the simulation, I want you to aim for a moving target, but don’t throw the knife just yet.” 

Hiro nodded. He could hear a faint click in the background. The simulation started; all of the targets moved at once in different directions and at different intervals. Hiro focused a single point of attention on the slowest target in front of him. He brought his arm up. “Now what?” 

“Now, I tell you what you’re doing wrong,” Tadashi explained as he brought his hand to Hiro’s raised wrist, igniting the skin his fingertips touched.“You have target-fixation.” 

Hiro turned his head to eye his brother incredulously. “I’m supposed to aim aren’t I?” 

Tadashi smiled knowingly. “You’re supposed to know where your targets are, yes, but you shouldn’t focus on a single target when you have an entire field of them. Let their movements work for you instead of working against them. Wait until you know where they’re going to be at and then throw.” Tadashi let go of his wrist to knock two fingers against the side of Hiro’s head, “Instead of using your eyes, use your brain, knucklehead.” 

Hiro looked toward the field. Tadashi’s words made a lot of sense, in more ways than one. For most of his life, he had worked against something; aggression was in his nature. He even worked against himself, trying to force ideas that just weren’t there. If he were more like Tadashi, he would just follow the current where it led and adapted, rather then try to make his situation adapt to him. 

Hiro took a deep breath. He calculated when the targets would come to positions that made them easier to hit. He waited until, one by one, he allowed his knives to fly. Each hit the center of their mark. 

Tadashi clapped him on the back and spouted his congratulations. Hiro nodded as he thought about how he should adapt more often to things in his life. 

When he thought about it further, the idea also made sense in terms of his latest project. The drone was District 13’s eyes in the sky. What would it be like if, instead, they used their brains? Adapted to their battlefield instead of fighting against it? Suddenly, ideas materialized and he knew exactly what he had to do. 

“Tadashi!” Hiro gasped. He bounced around until he faced his brother. “You’re a genius!” 

His elation stripped him of his reign on his impulse. Before he could stop himself, Hiro stood on his toes and kissed his brother.


	5. Everybody Wants to Rule the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of freedom and of pleasure  
> Nothing ever lasts forever  
> Everybody wants to rule the world
> 
> There's a room where the light won't find you  
> Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down  
> When they do I'll be right behind you
> 
> So glad we've almost made it  
> So sad they had to fade it  
> Everybody wants to rule the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to lipox24 and his kiff44 for being my loyal betas! This is kind of a filler chapter, but I did explain more of the background, so I hope it makes up for the lack of actual plot!

Just as soon as Hiro felt his lips touch his brother's, he pulled away. He put his hands over his gaping mouth, and hyperventilated the air that filtered between his laced fingers. He trembled as the shock over his own actions shot straight through his bone marrow. He felt hot with shame. What had he done? 

“Hey,” Tadashi brought him back to reality with the soft call, “It’s alright, it happens.” 

Tadashi’s smile gave him an anchor to hold on to outside of his head, calming him, but only just so. His mind was still trapped in a cloud of confusion. What was happening to him? This wasn’t like him!

Tadashi chuckled. "Honestly, it's happened to me a few times." 

His words conjured the image of Tadashi kissing someone else, causing a flame of agonizing jealously to burn through his chest. He tried to extinguish the flames with the knowledge that Tadashi was exclusively his brother; it did little else but add to his distress, and that frightened him more. 

"Baymax will never be the same," Tadashi said wistfully as his eyes turned upward toward the ceiling. He shook his head back and forth in small movements, adding to the dramatic display. 

Hiro was not soothed. Tadashi's experience was vastly different than his own. Tadashi didn't desire his creation (at least as far as he knew) like Hiro desired him. At least, Hiro thought he desired his brother. He wasn't repelled by the idea of intimacy with Tadashi like he should have been, but he hadn't planned on acting on his involuntary fantasies. 

Maybe, maybe this was a normal after all. Yes, he was happy, incredibly so, for the first time in years. A natural response to happiness is unwarranted affection, right? He had been hugged, high-fived, body slammed, etcetera, as a consequence of someone else's elation before. If Tadashi had a predilection for random kisses, maybe it was a familial trait he inherited. He breathed easier at the thought.

Laughter filtered through his fingers. He lowered his hands away from his face."Sorry," Hiro snorted. "I had a breakthrough about my project and got overly excited, I guess." 

Tadashi shrugged. "Just think of it as payback for last time." The elder brother pushed him gently on the shoulder.

Last time, as Tadashi put it, played back in his head. Back then, it had seemed so innocent; it was just a passionate goodbye between close brothers. It could have been the last time they would see each other. Hiro had thought nothing romantic about the gesture. Although the kiss went deeper than just a chaste peck of lips, emotions were high. They were both sad, angry and scared; it was so easy to get carried away. 

Was this the same? So high on his joy that he just got carried away? He desperately hoped so. 

Hiro, in an effort to break himself away from his train of thought, gestured to the target range. “Alright,” Hiro said with a cringeworthy croak, “Your turn.” 

Tadashi smirked cockily at his brother. He reached into his pocket and clicked the simulation off. After the targets ceased their movements with a mechanical shutter, and Tadashi looked back to give a nod of affirmation, he walked in between the rows of targets and collected the discarded knives. Once all the knives were collected, Tadashi made his way back off the platform “Let me show you how it’s done.” 

Tadashi stepped closer to the center while Hiro stepped to the side. Tadashi reached for the remote control and turned the simulation back on. He adjusted his stance, took a deep breath, and allowed the first knife to fly from his hand. It hit the centermost target just next to where Hiro’s knife previously protruded from it. 

Hiro nodded his approval. His brother’s skills hadn’t rusted in his time in the Capitol. He looked up at his brother, prepared to give him some sort of begrudging adulation, but was stunned silent by what he found.

Tadashi stood frozen in place. He trembled terribly. The weapons in his shaking hand fell away and clattered to the floor. Each breath he took was labored for. Seeing his brother like this, Hiro felt himself grow cold with apprehension and doubt. 

“Tadashi?” Hiro called out to him in a quiet whisper, but he received no response. 

\---

Tadashi saw him. He saw Peridot looking back at him. He saw his pain, his despair, his horror. He saw the death written in his eyes. The knife was not embedded in the target, but in the other boy’s thigh, just like it had been in the arena. 

Something touched him on the arm. His entire body tensed as he recoiled away from the contact. He snapped his head in the direction of where the advance originated from, preparing to fight an unforeseen foe. There, his brother stood, wide-eyed and pale. 

Tadashi felt his breathing ease and his muscles relax. He wasn’t in the arena. Peridot wasn’t there. It was just another delusion, and he caused his brother distress because of it. 

A stone of guilt dropped into his stomach. Tadashi was supposed to protect Hiro from fear, not cause it. He wasn’t supposed to give his brother apprehension, he was supposed to give him safety. His defective mind, riddled with tears and scars that wouldn’t heal, made his brother flinch away from him. It broke his heart. 

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi apologized breathlessly, “I’m so sorry.” 

Hiro approached his brother as though he were a wounded animal. The younger man slowly placed his shivering hands on his older brother’s twitching upper arms. “It’s okay,” Hiro soothed softly, but Tadashi could still hear the hitch in his voice and see the hesitation in his eyes. “D-Do you want me to call for Baymax?” 

Tadashi shook his head. He wasn’t going to force Baymax to drop his patients just for him. Others needed Baymax more than Tadashi did. Besides, how do you heal something that could not be felt or seen? Surely, Baymax could provide him with his anti-anxiety medication, but then what? He could only treat the symptoms, while someone else may need Baymax to actually cure their ailment. No, no, he refused to take that away from someone. 

“Cool,” Hiro said, nodding once, “Okay, do you need anything?” 

Tadashi shook his head once more. Even if there was something to be done, Hiro didn't need another burden placed on his shoulders on top of everything else. “I’ll be fine,” Tadashi assured with a shaky smile. 

"Are you sure?" Hiro probed. His hands tightened their grip on the fabric of his sleeves. 

Tadashi gulped, but nodded his head. “Yeah,” he choked out, “I’ll be-” 

A loud beeping filled the room as Tadashi’s waist pocket vibrated. He reached into it and retrieved his commlink, a watch-like device with a square head whose primary purpose was to send him communications from command. On the small, illuminated screen, the time “14:00” blinked rapidly. He pressed his thumb onto the middle of the screen to stop the incessant sound. 

He looked back down at Hiro. Tadashi’s smile, although still foxed at the edges, was much more relaxed with relief; he had an excuse to leave their conversation behind in the training room. 

The gesture seemed to have the desired effect; Hiro’s shoulders slacked and his expression smoothed into something more tranquil. 

“Dinner time, kiddo, let’s go,” Tadashi announced softly.

Hiro gave his brother a small smile before following him out of the room. 

\--- 

Pleasant conversation accompanied their dinner. The main topic of discussion was Hiro’s breakthrough on the project, although he provided very little detail. It wasn’t for the lack of wanting to share his ideas, but they were jumbled and misshapen, difficult to describe without nonsensical, half-formed phrases. 

“I’ll need to go back to the lab after I eat to get this drawn up,” Hiro explained through a mouthful of food. 

Everyone’s expressions twisted with reluctant concern. They looked at one another, as though they were silently voting who among them would challenge Hiro first. Hiro felt himself grow impatient for the impending denial of his plan, eager to argue his case. There was no way he wasn’t going to the lab; he couldn’t risk losing his ideas and falling back into his earlier slump. 

Eventually, it was Tadashi who spoke first. “Hiro, the lab is closed after dinner. We all have to go back to our home units -” 

“That’s why I’m going to finish early and go in for a few minutes before bath time,” Hiro interrupted petulantly, with a finality that begged to end the conversation. “I’ll be on time, don’t worry.” 

Tadashi let out a loud breath of air through his nose. “No,” he denied firmly. “You’re coming with me after dinner, there is no arguing this.” 

Hiro felt a tick of irritation work its way to his jaw. “Urban,” Hiro scoffed with a mad humor. The name tasted awful in his mouth, and it only served to make his tongue feel stiffer. “I’m going, okay, so -”

Honey-Lemon interrupted Hiro by reaching her hand out in front of him. Hiro’s eyes widened at the girl, who haltingly pulled her appendage back once his attention was on her. Despite the dismay clouding her eyes, she spoke softly to him,“Hiro, Urban is right. You can get in big trouble. You should just wait until tomorrow.” 

“Big trouble?” Hiro nearly laughed, nodding his head as he mulled over the implications of what that phrase meant. Flashbacks of his time in District 3 reeled through his brain, showcasing every instance of “big trouble” he had ever witnessed: shootings, hangings, whippings, and those were just the light punishments.“They want me to work for them, but only on their terms, right? How is that any better than the Capitol?” 

No one gave him in answer, instead, they looked down at their food or away from him. Satisfied with their newfound complacency, Hiro jumped to his feet. Just as he walked around his chair, his wrist was captured in a tight grip. He turned around to face his captor, and not surprisingly, found his brother. 

Hiro expected anger, irritation, or even disappointment, but Tadashi’s eyes were filled with a solemn acceptance. Tadashi’s smooth lips were set in a small frown. The color in his face had drained drastically, adding a heaviness to the bottom of his eyes and a hollowness to his cheeks. He looked far too old for his twenty two years, Hiro thought to himself as he felt his chest crack painfully open. 

“Here,” he said as he let go of his brother’s wrist to dig into his pocket and produce his commlink. He offered it to Hiro, who took it gently into his own hand. “This will get you passed the security doors.” 

“Thanks,” Hiro gratefully said underneath his breath. His heart beat so fast and so hard he was sure it would burst from his chest. His body felt just on the other side of too warm, like he was placed back in the summer heat of District 3. 

"Uh, guys," GoGo called out to them from the opposite side of their table. They turned towards her. Her eyebrow was quirked impossibly high, and although her mouth was set in a frown, there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. "Urban, we all know you think he's cute, and I know you think that being self sacrificing is going to get you laid, but think about what you're doing - if Hiro continues to be twelve years old, the worst that's going to happen is a guard will escort him back to his room. But, if he's caught with your commlink, at best he gets arrested, at worst you both get arrested and get stripped of your lab privileges. So I suggest you both be rational about this." 

Without an outward protest, outside of the slight pout Hiro directed towards GoGo, he faced his brother. "I won't get caught, I promise. I’m smarter than that, Tadashi -" he didn't need to look at everyone's confused looks or Tadashi's scandalized expression to realize he messed up. He knew the moment his name tumbled out of his mouth. He felt himself flush hotly. "- I-I mean Urban, I'm sorry, y-you just really remind me of my brother." 

"Oh, family-zoned, that sucks buddy," Fred piped up. GoGo leaned over and punched his arm. From the solid sound it made, Fred was completely justified in wincing as he rubbed the spot where her fist connected. 

Tadashi's cheeks blushed brightly, the red made more evident by how it contrasted sharply against the rest of his face. Hiro thought the expression odd, and a deep, dark, secret part of himself dared to hope that the crimson painted over his nose was due to the crush his friends implied he had. But, he squelched it down. It was not the time or place to contemplate the complicated feelings he had about his once-dead brother. 

Tadashi tossed his head back to shoot a dangerous look at his lanky friend before glancing back at Hiro. "It's alright -" Tadashi ran a hand over his face. “But now, I just can’t help but wonder what your brother would say or do at a time like this.” 

Hiro felt his throat tighten, but he elected to ignore it. He pushed passed the wet, heavy thing that sat on his chest and shrugged his aching shoulders. “I wouldn’t know, he died four years ago.” 

A collective gasp emanated from the table. Hiro looked to see that his friends’ expressions reflect a range of sorrow and empathy. “It’s alright,” Hiro assured them, “I just - it still hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi apologized with a quiet whisper. Hiro’s focus returned to his brother, whose expression was downcast and mournful. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Hiro, I just really don’t want you to get in trouble. We need that big brain of yours in the lab, not in prison.” 

Hiro’s smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Take it easy, Urban,” he assured with a small chuckle, placing his unoccupied hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I’ll be fine.” 

Without another word, Hiro let go of his brother and exited the mess hall. 

\---

Tadashi eyed his brother as he made his way out of the cafeteria. He stood motionless for the long minute after the younger man was out of sight. Tadashi then turned to Honey-Lemon and asked hurriedly, “Can I borrow your commlink for a second?” 

Despite the obvious confusion written on her face, she took off the commlink she wore on her right wrist and handed it to her compatriot. He took it and immediately traced his finger over the screen, dialing a set of numbers. The screen darkened to black, with the exception of a green line that was drawn vertically across it. Tadashi placed the commlink near his mouth. The line moved and warbled to the intervals of his voice as he spoke, “Beetee, this is Urban. I’m tracking Hiro Hamada with my commlink. He is heading to the robotics lab. Stop him.” 

He took the device away from his lips. He tapped the screen a few more times before he handed it back to Honey-Lemon, who blinked at him rapidly. “D-do you think that was for the best?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and hesitant. 

“Yeah, he’s gonna be pissed when he realizes you sabotaged his plan,” Fred explained callously, “Which probably is going to get you bumped back a zone or two.” 

Wasabi turned to Fred, his eyes narrowed and his mouth parted slightly. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, Urban did the right thing! Otherwise, Hiro would get arrested. There are rules for a reason.” 

“And,” GoGo interjected, stretching the word into multiple syllables, “ - it’s not like he called command or anything. Hiro will be mad, but he’ll get over it.” GoGo glanced back at at Tadashi. Her lips twisted into a wry smirk. “Then, they’ll make googly eyes at each other again.” 

Tadashi rolled his eyes and groaned. His friends were far too perceptive, not that he would ever admit to his true feelings. Instead, he attempted to throw suspicion off of himself by asking,“What makes you think I like him like that?” 

“Please,” GoGo replied with a small, dry laugh, “You hang on his every word when he talks, and you were practically drooling over him during training.” 

The gang nodded their heads in unison. 

Tadashi pushed down the stirrings of a bashful smile, making his cheeks ache. “Well, you guys are wrong,” he lied, and by the way the rest of the group grinned at him, it was obvious. “He’s a brat, okay? He-” 

“Urban, come on man,” Wasabi chuckled, “You’re blushing.” 

“Kiss me in the meadow, where it meets the river -” Fred began to sing, standing from his seat and gesturing for his friends to follow along with his song. 

One by one, each of his friends began to chant along to the familiar children’s rhyme. “-and hold me close, and make me shiver.” 

Tadashi turned on his heel and quickly made his way out of the vicinity of his embarrassment. 

\--- 

 

Hiro spotted Beetee the moment he entered the robotics lab. He sat in his wheelchair, his back relaxed and his hands folded neatly in his lap, thoroughly blocking the entry into his office. Hiro rolled his eyes and groaned. Unperturbed, however, he stalked over to the man, his heavy stomps echoed throughout the empty laboratory. 

“He sent you, didn’t he?” Hiro accused with an incredulous venom coating his words. Beetee smiled and shrugged. Hiro scoffed. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Unbelievable," he sighed sharply.

"He contacted me rather than command, he should get some credit for that," Beetee replied in a friendly, cordial tone. It was the same soft but cautionary voice he always used when he was trying to calm one of Hiro’s temper tantrums. It usually settled the boy down, bringing him back to rationality. But this time, Hiro only felt betrayed. He expected this of his brother, but of Beetee? Never

Hiro pulled his hand away from his eyes and glanced back down at his mentor. His expression was kind and fatherly, full of understanding. Surely, Beetee, the person who shared his same outlook and genius, could be persuaded to bend the rules, just a little. "I just need to get into my office for a few minutes, in and out, I promise," Hiro pleaded desperately as he attempted to walk around his mentor’s chair. Beetee, with an unexpected speed, rolled his chair in front of his protege. 

“Hiro, the moment your keycard is swiped over the sensor, security will be in here to take you to the detention center,” Beetee warned, but his tone remained familial and soothing. 

“I’ll be done by the time they get here,” Hiro tried to assure, but it was shaky and painfully unconfident. 

Beetee’s expression turned dark, “Hiro, neither of us have the Capitol’s protection here. You could get away with this in District 3 because you were a darling child, but not here, not now.”

Hiro’s shoulders prickled at the phrase “darling child”. Darling children were siblings or young family members left behind by district’s tributes. Immediately upon the aftermath of the games, if the Capitol thought them worthy enough to entertain its citizens, they would be interviewed or even have their own television specials. Hiro had been such a case. He was smart, adorable and his brother had been the best loved Capitol favorite since Finnick Odair. So adored was he that for three months cameras followed him around, documenting his continued mourning while he went through the day-to-day trials of a robotics genius. 

Hiro had hated the violation so much that it burned a hole through his sorrow. The tears were for the camera, weapons against the Capitol. The knives imbedded in the tree outside of his home were for him, tools to help him mourn. 

Hiro was shaken from his thoughts by Beetee’s pleas of, “Hiro, go back to your home unit, give Urban back his commlink, and start following the rules of this place. I can’t lose you, too.” 

A sharp pain lacerated through his lungs. He knew, even without a name attached to his sentiment, that he referred to the slaying of Tadashi’s mentor, Wiress. 

Wiress was a kind, middle-aged and somewhat neurotic individual, but she had treated Hiro kindly when they did interact. Like all previous winners of the Hunger Games, she was forced into the role of mentor for her district’s tributes, as she was the last winner to come from District 3. It was her job to instruct tributes on how to conduct themselves prior and during the games. Hiro knew that Wiress did all she could to keep his brother alive, and he would forever be grateful to her. 

When she was chosen to fight in the Quarter Quell, Hiro was devastated. He was even more so when he saw her murdered live on television.

“I’m - I’m sorry about Wiress, I saw - she did her best for Tadashi, and I wish I could have said something to her sooner.” 

“I’m sure she knew,” Beetee said, although Hiro wasn’t assured. 

Without another word exchanged between them, Hiro followed Beetee’s instructions just in time to follow the hoard of people who were all going to their home units or to the shared locker rooms. Even as he followed the flow of bodies like any other upstanding citizen, he couldn’t help but feel as though he traded the Capitol’s oppressive hand for District 13’s watchful eye. 

\---

Hiro entered his home unit and was met with only silence. He felt oddly relieved; his mind had run through various scenarios of what a confrontation with his brother might look or sound like, but he was glad to avoid whatever fallout would come of something like that. He went straight to his drawers and pulled out a pair of undergarments, and the crumpled district-issued nightwear he had crammed in there that morning.

He padded over to the bathroom and opened the door. A fresh wave of steam clouded his face for the briefest of moments. Once Hiro was able to see clearly, his eyes landed on his older brother’s very bare upper body and toweled waist. 

He was powerless against the force that pulled his eyes over Tadashi’s wet, naked flesh. He traced the hard lines of his brother’s broad chest and admired the grooves of his strong abs. He wondered briefly what it would be like to roam his skin with his fingers and tongue - whoa now, he thought to himself, halting any other incredibly filthy fantasies. 

Tadashi, as though being wet and clothed only in a loose towel in front of Hiro was as normal as any other of their interactions, greeted his brother with a knowing smirk. “So, Beetee got to you.” 

Hiro swallowed thickly. He opened his suddenly dry mouth in an attempt to speak, but only squeaks and aborted words spilled clumsily from his chapped lips. 

Tadashi’s smirk grew into an unabashed grin. Hiro, yet again, felt too hot, too uncomfortable. He needed to leave, desperately. He spun on his heel, but was stopped by an abrupt, strong hold on his shoulder. He could feel Tadashi using his body as leverage to lean in close. His lips were barely a hair over his ear when he whispered, “Where do you think you’re going?” 

A shiver ran pleasantly down his spine, much to Hiro’s mortification. His brain created a vision of Tadashi forcefully turning him around, pinning him to the wall with his toned arms, and using the power of his strong legs to grind against him until he was a mewling mess. Hiro bit his lip to keep the defeated whimper in his throat locked tight. 

“Don’t run away just because you don’t have a leg to stand on,” Tadashi teased. He maneuvered Hiro around, but the younger man refused to look up at his face. His older brother could read him like a book, and he knew that his fantasies were written in bold ink on his face. Instead of allowing his secret to be revealed, he stared down at the space between his combat boots and feigned shame for being lectured. 

Tadashi poked a hard finger at his shoulder. “I hope you learned your lesson, bonehead. It’s a call to command next time.” 

Hiro nodded obediently. Regardless, Tadashi lifted his chin with a finger. He stared at him with a stern expression, although there was a softness at its corners. “Do you understand, Hiro?” he asked with an edge to his voice, “You can’t just do what you’d like, not here anyway.” 

Hiro knocked his hand away. He swiftly averted his gaze away from his brother. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Can I take a shower now?”

Hiro heard his brother chuckle low in his throat. The sound made his knees tremble and his cheeks flame. If Tadashi noticed his change in demeanor, he didn’t acknowledge it. Rather, Tadashi pointed out that he hung Hiro’s towel over the shower door before exiting the bathroom. 

Hiro sighed, relieved. 

\--- 

Tadashi never knew what to do with his leisure time. It was too early to go to bed, but he was not allowed the freedom to roam the District and visit his friends. In the Capitol, he never had any time to himself. Every second was devoted to his projects or to maintaining his homeostasis. Time to himself was a new phenomenon that confused him.

He had tried to read, but most of the books available in the library of District 13 were devoted to the dry science or history of nuclear weaponry. He would rather stare at the ceiling as his mind drew new feature designs for Baymax, or watch whatever Capitol broadcast filtered through on the tiny monitor that sat on his dresser. 

He wondered what Hiro would do in his spare time. When they were much younger, their time was often spent together. They would build robots out of spare parts, or design grand fleets of machinery. When Hiro became older, his younger brother’s free time was then spent roaming the streets and participate in bot fighting. It was a highly illegal activity, and Tadashi found that most of his down time was spent chasing after his little brother to ensure that he didn’t get hurt or arrested. Tadashi had initially been relieved when he heard that Hiro had stopped his illegal activities and made something of himself. With that day’s mishap, however, he wasn’t so sure that Hiro’s restlessness had been cured after all. 

He found himself worrying over Hiro’s idle hands. Hiro was nothing if not stubborn. What if he tried going out again?   
At the end of his train of thought, he decided that Hiro needed to be watched, at least for the time being.   
The moment Tadashi heard the water stop running, he leapt from his bed and scurried over to the bathroom door. To give his brother privacy, he opened it only slightly and spoke through the opening. “Hey, do you want to watch tv in my room when you’re done?” 

“Uh, sure, I guess,” he heard echo throughout the walls of the enclosed space. 

Satisfied, Tadashi acknowledged the response with a quiet “okay” before closing the door. He padded over to the small monitor sitting on his nightstand and powered it on. It displayed a Capitol news broadcast, focusing on how the government was culling the riots and rebellions that were ongoing in the rest of Panem. 

Moments later, Hiro emerged from the bathroom. The pajamas he wore hung loosely over his frame, making him look much younger than he really was. It was reminiscent of when Hiro wore his hand-me-downs when he was but a child. It was extremely endearing, and Tadashi was forced to discourage himself from reaching out and holding tightly onto his brother.

Hiro eyed him over critically. “Don’t you ever wear a shirt at home?” 

Tadashi shook his head. The standard issue sleepshirt was uncomfortable. While it was loose on Hiro, the adult one-size-fits-all top stretched tightly over his neck and chest. For the first few nights of his stay in District 13, he would have nightmares of being strangled. After having enough, too sleep deprived and frustrated for polite formalities that would never be acknowledged, he was forced to discard the garment and sleep shirtless. 

Hiro shrugged. He walked over to the end of the bed and plopped down in front of the television. Tadashi took a seat next to him. 

They didn’t exchange a single word or glance between each other during the first few programs. It was as awkward as sitting next to a complete stranger. Tadashi tried, and failed, numerous times to start a conversation, but he didn’t know how to speak to the boy. It had been four years since they had a decent conversation that didn’t focus on their roles in the rebellion. What did Hiro even like? What did he dislike? What were his dreams, his aspirations? Who was Hiro outside of his job? 

Eventually, during an advertisement for smear-free makeup, Hiro asked in a quiet, somber tone,“How did they treat you in the Capitol?” 

Tadashi’s eyes followed the outline of Hiro’s silhouette. The younger man’s focus was still fixated on the television screen. His neck and shoulders were relaxed, but the line of his mouth was taut and there was crease between his eyebrows. The expression seemed so foreign on Hiro, but it wasn’t wholly unfamiliar to Tadashi.

His fellow tributes had worn the same features on their faces after he had finished a knife throwing simulation during his Hunger Games training. He had hit every target in a kill spot, meanwhile avoiding the target’s virtual attacks. At first, he thought their odd stares were out of surprise; District 3 did not raise fighters, they raised engineers. The more they observed him, calculated and mapped out his movements, the more he realized his mistake. He had made himself seem dangerous, which also made him more of a target. It was then that he knew that the hard lines etched into their looks were not out of awe, but thinly veiled fear. 

Tadashi closed his eyes and willed the memory away. Once his mind was transported back to his time in the Capitol, he opened his eyes and turned his head toward his brother. “I was okay,” Tadashi said as soothingly as he could, “I was stuck in the same space for two years, but after that, I was allowed to go outside and do normal things. I was like any other Capitol drone, really.” 

Hiro snorted obnoxiously. He looked up at his brother, a gleam of something snide in his dark eyes. “Did you wear smear-free makeup?” he mocked, using the same inflection as the previous commercial’s narrator. 

Tadashi laughed lightly. “Actually, I did. I guess that’s how no one knew it was me.” He brought a hand to his face and rubbed the stubble on his cheek. 

“Oh, my God!” Hiro guffawed until he was nearly gasping for air. “I wish I could have seen that.” 

Tadashi grinned and shook his head. “No you don’t, it was atrocious.” 

The two chuckled for several minutes before the air shifted uncomfortably again. Without any of his previous humor, Hiro asked, “If you were treated so well, why did you want to join the rebellion?” 

Tadashi felt a sharp needle pierce his heart. He still remembered, far too vividly, the look Plutarch gave him when he entered his office a few months ago. His head was down and his eyes were hard; he resembled a doctor about to give his patient terminal news. At first, Tadashi thought the worst had happened to his brother, that his wayward ways had finally caught up to him and he was arrested, or worse. Then, Plutarch informed him of his aunt. Peacekeepers had shot her in an attempt to quell the rowdy crowd that had formed after Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark arrived at District 3 during their Victory Tour. 

The Victory Tour occurred each year. The victor of that year’s Hunger Games would be paraded around the twelve districts, reminding everyone of the winner’s triumph and their loss. The victor would sing the Capitol’s praises, while in the same breath spit on the sorrow of their fellow people. But that was its purpose. It was a reminder that the Capitol’s hold over them was absolute and that the districts’ citizens were easily disposed. 

This year had been different. The Victory Tour had only stirred the weary crowd into a ravenous frenzy. They were tired of being downtrodden, of fearing for their children’s lives, of living in a constant state of despair and anguish. Katniss’ presence had been the final push they needed to make their voices heard, especially in District 3. They were smart enough to know that her words were coached and that her smiles didn’t hold any meaning. The citizens questioned what she really thought of the Capitol, and demanded solidarity from her for their cause. She had already defied the Capitol and lived, why couldn’t they? 

As Plutarch described the situation, the peacekeepers had fired randomly into the crowd. His aunt had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. She died, later, in his little brother’s arms. 

Any fear or resignation he once had was wiped away in that moment. It was replaced with a bitterness that was palpable. It filled his lungs, drowning him until he choked on everything his government had ever taken away from him: his parents, his identity, his home, his aunt. Worse yet, they still hadn’t taken everything from him. 

Tadashi felt a heaviness at the back of his eyes. He looked down and blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the tears that charged forward. 

“Tadashi?” Hiro’s soft, comforting voice filtered through his pain. His little brother’s words, his presence, was a salve on the wounds of his soul. 

Tadashi peered at his little brother, whose soft eyes promised of home and safety. The elder man’s lips formed a forlorn, longing smile. He swallowed the thickness that had rested underneath his tongue. “You,” he said breathlessly, “I joined the rebellion for you.” 

When Plutarch had first invited him to District 13, he thought that any consequence of his protests would fall on Hiro’s shoulders, unaware that his little brother had revolutionary plans of his own. But, with the promise of Hiro’s safety, he had no choice but to agree. He refused to let the Capitol take his beloved, his everything, away from him.


	6. All My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think we're the brightest stars  
> And I try to believe we'll find a way  
> Will life change when our hearts turn colder? (Major Lazer)
> 
> All the rhythms in my heart lift me up inside  
> We can't stay out of trouble, is it worth the blame?  
> Is it true that the more you give, the more they take?  
> All the rhythms in my heart lift me up and say
> 
> All your love will make us ache  
> All your love is worth the chase  
> All my love, I know they'll let it find us  
> All my love's up on the mountain tops
> 
> All the rhytms in my heart lift me up and say  
> We're just a mess of, broken people, but we love the game  
> I would do anything for us, it's worth the pain  
> All the rhythms in my heart lift me up and say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this update took so long! Thanks again to my betas!

The sound of slow, heavy thuds coming from the door awoke Tadashi from his dreamless slumber. 

His eyelids, heavy with his remaining sleep, fluttered haltingly open. He shifted slowly from his position on his side, using his weighty arm to pull himself upright. His legs spilled over the edge of the bed, allowing his feet to hit the floor with soft plops. 

Tadashi glanced around his room, observing his familiar yet strangely disorienting surroundings. The room was dark for the exception of the illuminated television set, which broadcasted a single title card that read “Capitol TV”. Next to him, nestled atop his grey comforter, was his younger brother. He was curled into himself, using his arm to pillow his head. Small sounds, that could have been snoring if not for how endearing they were, escaped his partly opened mouth. A pool of drool collected itself on his arm. 

The affection the former Hamada felt for the adorable mess laying beside him bubbled into a soft smile, though he felt the gesture drain him of his remaining energy. How long had he slept? The TV was still turned on, so it couldn’t have been “lights out” already. That meant that, at most, he received thirty minutes of sleep. Yet, it was still better rest than he was used to, which was enough to make him sluggish and weak willed. 

The knocking at his door began again. Tadashi took a deep breath before using both of his arms to lift himself out of his bed and onto a standing position, but not without some degree of difficulty. He lumbered to the door as though he were injured, limping against the exhaustion that wrapped itself around his prickling legs. Although only three feet separated him from the entrance to his room, he felt as though he had traveled miles to his destination. After several clumsy attempts at finding the handle in the dark through hooded eyes, he opened the door. 

Baymax stood on the other side, looking far worse for wear than when he had been dropped him off at the hospital. In most areas, his white vinyl was coated with a black, soot-like substance. “Hello,” he greeted simply. Tadashi took note that the robot did not wave, as was his custom, because he was carrying his own storage compartment in his hands. 

Tadashi’s brain produced a multitude of questions, though they seemingly swam in tar, making it impossible for them to travel to his mouth. Instead, he simply stepped aside, allowing for the large robot to make his way into the room. Once he was situated just behind Tadashi, the robotics expert closed the door with a soft click against its frame, careful to not make too much noise lest he awaken his sibling. 

As Tadashi turned to the medical companion, a single red flag signaled an alarm that pierced through the fog of his grogginess. His eyebrow propped itself highly on his forehead, and he tilted his head slightly to the side. “Where’s Prim?” he asked in a whisper. 

In a volume high enough to jumpstart Tadashi’s heart, Baymax responded, “Primrose Everdeen had instructed me -” 

Tadashi quickly hushed the robot with panicked rushes of breath and wild wavings of his hands. “Volume at 30% percent!” he hissed underneath his breath. 

Much to Tadashi’s dismay, it was already too late. The sound of his blankets rustling in the wake of their disturbance met the elder man’s ears. Tadashi turned his head to see that Hiro was sitting up on the bed, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

Baymax shuffled to his side as his attention turned to the younger man. “Hello, Hiro,” he greeted softly. 

Tadashi ran a hand over his face. Muffled by his appendage, he commanded Baymax to speak at his normal range. The robot complied, repeating his earlier statement in his usual, cheerful way. 

Hiro did not make any indication that he acknowledged the commotion to his left, and instead, fell back to his side with a dramatic bounce. He curled himself away from the pair and shifted into his earlier position. 

Tadashi’s relief cooled his inappropriate distress. He was forced to admit to himself that, far from just being a polite gesture, his care to not awaken Hiro was out of fear that he would retreat to his own room. It was selfish, he realized, and that was not a look he wore well. Despite this, he couldn’t contain his desire to be close to his secret beloved, nor could he ignore the plain fact that his presence allowed him to sleep for the first time in four years. Regardless, Hiro seemed to lack the ability to leave, or even awaken, which was more than acceptable to his older brother. 

Tadashi released his head and gave a single harsh breath through his nose. Defeated by his own unwavering unseemly behavior, he sighed before instructing Baymax to deactivate with a sigh of, “I am satisfied with my care”. 

The robot turned and bent down to place his storage compartment against the nearest wall. His imprecision caused it to make a slight rattling noise as it met the floor, eliciting a wince from his creator. The top of the red device opened with a soft hiss of air. Inside, there were two foot holes of perfect size for the ends of Baymax’s bulbous legs. The medical unit stepped inside with graceless motions. Once he was settled, he disinflated before the top of the device automatically shut itself closed over Baymax’s head. 

Tadashi briefly rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Yawning, he made his way back into bed, although he made the conscious decision to not curl at the end of his mattress. Rather, situated himself underneath his covers, careful to not disturb the lump that settled itself to the right of his calves. He lay back against his pillow and closed his eyes. 

After several moments of frustrating wakefulness, he concluded that he did not feel quite right about letting Hiro sleep in such an uncomfortable position. He knew, from a far off experience, that the boy could sleep anywhere, but that didn’t stop a guilt from lacerating his beating heart painfully. 

“Hiro,” he called out quietly. No response. He called out several more times, using a variety of tones and volumes, until he finally heard a noise of complaint from the collection of blankets at his end. The boy shifted his head upwards toward his elder brother. His narrowed eyes blinked slowly at him. 

Wordlessly, Tadashi waved his hands up toward him, beckoning Hiro to come up higher onto the bed. The boy acknowledged his silent command by slithering toward Tadashi until he was at the top of the comforter. With his elder brother’s assistance, he was able to maneuver himself into the sheets. Since there was only one pillow assigned to the bedroom, Hiro settled his head on the empty space next to the elder man. 

“No, no, no,” Tadashi chuckled his complaint with a low breath. He slipped his hands underneath Hiro’s arms and hoisted him just enough to drop his head onto his shoulder. He wrapped the arm trapped beneath Hiro’s body around his slim neck. His hand rested against the top of his arm, and he found himself using his thumb to rub the skin underneath the boy’s sleeve. 

It felt - different. Although the position itself was nostalgic, the way Hiro felt against him was unfamiliar in the most unsettling fashion. How Hiro poised himself in response to the body underneath him didn’t feel natural. In their younger years, when they cuddled in this way, it used to feel as though they were two puzzle pieces fitting together. However, at that moment, it felt like forcing a square peg into a round hole. Hiro’s legs and arms were too long, and his body was far too heavy. All too soon, Tadashi’s arm fell asleep beneath his brother, and his side cramped from the angle it took to avoid the younger man’s knees. 

With a heavy heart, Tadashi once again lifted Hiro until he was sharing the free space of the pillow with him. He gazed upon the smooth lines of his dozing sibling’s face, tracing the trails that he had once memorized. Those pathways were so far different than what he had once known, as though the years between them carved his cliffs into canyons and soft hills into jagged mountains. It was frightening traveling the territory of Hiro’s features after no longer knowing the way. 

Eventually, his eyes made their way to Hiro’s lips. Tadashi smiled; those had not changed. It seemed as though his face had grown around his mouth rather than the other way around. Tadashi found himself scoffing; how typical that Hiro would be selfish enough to keep his best features, torturing his brother with how inviting they were. Like a moth to a flame, Hiro’s slightly parted mouth beckoned Tadashi sinfully closer, pulling him into a gravity that the elder Hamada was unable to fight. Without thought, he leaned forward and captured the boy’s bottom lip with his own. 

The magic lingered until his conscience caught up with him, reminding him harshly that Hiro did not consent to being touched this way. Horrified, Tadashi pulled away, rolled over, and fell asleep. 

\---

The kiss turned hot and needy, wet and sloppy. As his lover pushed forward, pressing his back further against the tree (somehow, he knew it was the practice tree), their hedonistic affection twisted into a gnashing of teeth and twisting of tongues. It was powerful, possessive and made Hiro’s blood boil in his veins. His want spread from his bruised lips to his very center, making him ache and throb in the best way. 

Hiro uncurled his arms from around his lover’s neck to allow his desperate hands to explore the marvelously hard body against his. His trembling fingers found their way to the flesh of his lover’s back. He gripped his wide shoulders, clawing at the slick skin, while his legs squeezed tighter around his lean waist. Hiro pulled him in deeper, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. 

His beloved groaned in his ear, sending shivers down his neck, over his back, and to his pulsing cock. He was so, so close. He just needed - 

“T-Tadashi~” 

\---

The buzzing of a distant alarm cut through his dream and pulled him harshly into the waking world. Hiro groaned. He rolled onto his back and opened his crusted eyes in long, lazy blinks. With a sharp slap of clarity, he realized that the ceiling above him wasn’t wholly recognizable. In one swift motion, he sat up. 

As he looked around, taking stock of the room, he realized that it was extraordinarily like his only inverted. That must mean - 

He glanced down. There, Tadashi lay on his side, snoring, blissfully unaware of the alarm that continued to pollute the room’s air with its shrieks. With a resurgence of early morning indignity, Hiro pushed at his brother’s muscular arm with both his hands, shaking him back and forth until the elder man gave a startled, “Huh? What?” 

“Your alarm,” Hiro responded with a croaking voice, still saturated with the syrupy coating of his remaining sleep. 

Tadashi took a deep breath through his nose. He rose his body just enough to snake a hand over to his nightstand. He slapped the alarm clock until it was silenced. Tadashi then fell back onto the bed theatrically. 

Hiro’s eyes narrowed at his brother. He never knew him to be so lazy, especially in the morning. This new side of him was one he found distasteful in its oddness. He shook his brother once more. “Oh no! If I’m awake, you’re awake.” 

“I’m awake,” Tadashi countered weakly against his pillow. “I’ll be up in a minute, okay?” His eyes remained closed. 

“No,” Hiro disagreed with a hiss, “You set the alarm, so now you have to pay for it!” 

With a forceful tug, Hiro pulled the pillow from underneath Tadashi. His brother gasped sharply when his head met the mattress beneath with a slight rebound. The younger Hamada took the opportunity to whack his stunned brother with the pillow over and over again. 

Tadashi struggled against the onslaught. He waved his arms in front of him in an attempt to shield his face from the blows, but Hiro continued on without mercy. After several more assaults, Tadashi reached out and gripped the corner of the pillow tightly. He tugged at it until it dislodged from Hiro’s stubborn hands. 

But, the smaller boy would not be stopped. His fingers became his weapons of choice. He reached out and tickled the sides of Tadashi’s bare upper body, causing the man to cry out and kick helplessly into the air. 

Tadashi’s laughter escaped him in breathless howls. He tried to roll away to escape the torment, but Hiro was relentless, following his every movement. Having had enough after only the briefest of moments, Tadashi reached out to his brother, using his own fingertips to counterattack. He used his catalogue of memories to find the sensitive points of his little brother’s body, which had not, thankfully, changed. 

Hiro’s high-pitched squeal dissolved into a fit of giggles. As much as he tried, he could not block Tadashi’s maneuvers without relinquishing his sides. He continued to grit and bear passed the sensations wracking his body to ensure that Tadashi received his just rewards for waking him. Just as Hiro was about to reach the space underneath his brother’s armpits, the elder Hamada took hold of him by the arms and flipped him over until he was on his back. 

Tadashi’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. Hiro squirmed under his hold, but the elder brother was able to keep him still by the arms, preventing him from retreating. “Got you now!” Tadashi nearly growled. 

Hiro’s breath audibly hitched. The words travelled gracefully down his spine, where they eventually rested against his half-hard groin. Before his mind could jump to a fantasy, he reeled it back with the bitter reminder that the man above him was his biological sibling. Hiro struggled in earnest, trying to not only escape from his brother’s ministrations, but also from his own desires. Though, no matter how hard he tried, he could not flee from his own perversion. 

He took a vexing pleasure in noticing how his brother’s eyes had a predatory glint to them, as though Hiro was his next meal. He watched intently as Tadashi’s breath escaped his soft, full lips in short pants. The red flush that elegantly spilled over his elder brother’s cheeks did not escape his attention either. He didn’t need his brain to fuel him with fevered imaginings, the real thing was looming over him. 

Part of him wanted Tadashi to leave him be so that he didn’t have to deal with how consuming and wrong his lust was for him. Yet, another part of him wanted to give into his yearning, to allow himself to bask in the glow of Tadashi’s attention just for the moment. Regardless, the alarm beside them screamed its complaints, taking the decision from Hiro’s hands. 

Tadashi rolled his eyes and groaned. He reached over Hiro to take the alarm clock from the nightstand into his hand. He used his thumb to manipulate a button on the device, which silenced it, before placing the machine back onto its resting position 

“What time is it anyway?” Hiro asked in an effort to pierce through his disquieting disappointment. 

“Six-thirty,” Tadashi answered plainly as he rolled off of his little brother. He hopped out of bed artlessly, bouncing on his feet until he found a proper footing. He then padded over to the square-ish device that was situated against the nearest wall. 

“Six-thirty? We don’t even have to be up for another hour!” Hiro complained. 

Tadashi chuckled quietly. “I know, I’m sorry, you can go back to sleep. I just have to run a diagnostic on Baymax.” 

At the sound of the medical unit’s name, Hiro sat up in a swift motion. Diagnostic? Was he malfunctioning? Had something happened to him? A sudden wave of anxiety rolled through his stomach painfully. “Is there something wrong with Baymax?” he asked hurriedly. 

Tadashi, meanwhile, kneeled down onto the floor. He tilted Baymax’s luggage until the bottom was clearly visible. He pushed a raised button at the center, which unlatched the rectangular cover of a; thin compartment. Tadashi used the pads of his fingers to excavate the tablet-like device that was sitting within the secret space. Once the tablet was retrieved, he closed the compartment and set the luggage back to it’s upright position. Tadashi stood. 

From what Hiro could see, his brother used his fingertips to awaken the device in his hands. It displayed a two-dimensional model of Baymax, along with several menu options at the bottom of the screen. Tadashi tapped at the screen, bringing up what looked like rows upon rows of raw data. 

Tadashi made a sidestep and turned his gaze toward his little brother. He gave him a reassuring smile as he shook his head. “Nope, doesn’t seem to be anything wrong.” 

Hiro’s eyebrow curved upwards. “Then, why?” 

“Baymax looked like he rolled around in dirt, and Prim didn't drop him off like she usually does. I got worried." 

Hiro's jaw tightened, cutting off the countless of snarkish quips that threatened to spill from his mouth. He thought better then to betray his satisfaction that the girl did not come by. He did not want a repeat performance of their last song and dance regarding her presence. 

Tadashi looked back down at the monitor in his hand. "Looks like his last patient was one: Katniss Everdeen. He probably tried to rescue her from the vents, again,” Tadashi mused to himself as he scrolled a finger down the screen. 

“Again?” Hiro scoffed without meaning to. He lightly chastised himself for allowing that one word to slip passed his defenses, though he didn’t feel like asking for forgiveness. The girl was a disgrace, and he had no patience for ignoring that fact. Though, Tadashi didn’t visibly react, he seemed to be in the clear. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah, she has a habit of doing that from time to time when she can’t sleep. We’ve tried everything, but there doesn’t seem to be anything that calms her down aside from her sister.” 

Before Hiro could open his mouth to say anything more, Tadashi summoned the personal healthcare companion with an elongated “ow!” The robot inflated rapidly. It was then that Hiro could see what his brother had been talking about. He looked positively filthy, as though someone had rubbed coal by-product all over his “skin”. For a moment, Hiro felt a pang of sympathy for the machine. 

“Hello, I am Baymax, your personal health-care companion. How can I be of assistance?” he greeted with a short wave. 

Tadashi looked up from the information on his tablet and toward Baymax. “Hey big guy, what happened last night?” 

Baymax tilted his head to the side. “I’m afraid I do not understand your question.” 

“Why are you covered in dirt?” Tadashi clarified with a slight chuckle. 

“Patient Everdeen was in distress. She suffered from an anxiety attack. I went to retrieve her from the ventilation system.” 

The word “coward” echoed through Hiro’s brain like a bell. How dare she bring others to her suffering? His brother, his wonderful, amazing, brave brother, too suffered from the jagged remnants of the arena that had lodged themselves into his brain. Yet, did he run off to be retrieved like a wayward dog? No, he did not, because he was better than that. In every way, he was better than her. Tadashi Hamada should be the mockingjay, the symbol of the rebellion, the beacon of hope for the soldiers fighting against the rule of the Capitol. Instead, that title went to Katniss while he was just Urban, the unknown scientist who was reduced to slaving at a tiny workstation for nothing more than food and shelter. He was to be forgotten. 

Without forethought, Hiro leapt out of bed and embraced his brother. He needed to feel how warm and solid and alive he was. He wasn’t forgotten, because he was there in his arms. 

“Hey,” Tadashi laughed as he wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s shoulders. “What’s up? Something wrong?” 

Hiro shook his head against the crook of Tadashi’s shoulder. 

“Well if that’s the case,” Tadashi said musically before launching an attack on Hiro’s sides. 

Hiro leapt away from his brother’s malicious affection, but returned his laugh nonetheless. 

Tadashi pointed a thumb at the medical unit. “Want to help me clean him up?” 

Hiro shrugged. 

//

Supplies were heavily monitored to the point where even dirty rags were in dangerously short supply. Tadashi, in all of his ingenuity, used the next best thing: his unused nightshirts. He soaked two of them in the bathroom sink before handing one over to Hiro. They wiped Baymax down from head to bloated foot until his body was a shimmering white. 

“Why vinyl?” Hiro wondered aloud as he tossed the dirty rag into the laundry shoot that was connected on the opposite wall. 

Tadashi tossed his own rag in. “So many things in the Capitol were created to be intimidating. I figured, if anything, I wanted to make something as nonthreatening and huggable as possible, y’know?” he explained in a reserved tone. 

Hiro casted his gaze onto Tadashi’s haunted eyes. The ghosts of his time in the Capitol were evident even though his soft smile tried to blanket them. It chilled him. 

Hiro nodded in response. “He looks kind of like the Capitol floats they used to show on TV during the New Year - no offense.” 

“I am a robot,” Baymax responded from where he stood on the other side of the room, “I cannot be offended.” 

Tadashi rolled his shoulder to gesture toward the robot. Hiro gave a single inclination of his head in acknowledgement. Tadashi made his way over to Baymax. Hiro followed. 

Once he stood before the medical companion, Hiro found that his eyes (cameras of some kind?) were tracing the length of his body. The robot observed him, just as Hiro stared back at him. It was a strange sort of bonding; both beings seemed curious about the other. Hiro wanted to learn more about the machine Tadashi had created in his absence. Did Baymax want to know more about his creator’s little brother? Did he have the capacity for such a desire? 

“Hyperspectral cameras?” Hiro inquired, but before he could get an answer, he pushed his face into Baymax’s chest. The semi-transparent material stretched over his face, allowing him to see that the body inside was made of some kind of shining metal. “Titanium skeleton?” 

“Carbon-fiber,” Tadashi corrected plainly. “He can lift up to five-hundred pounds.” 

Hiro unplastered himself from his brother’s creation. He looked back up into the robot’s eyes. They blinked twice at him. “He’s going to help a lot of people,” Hiro heard Tadashi sigh whimsically next to him. A soft hand found its way to his shoulder. 

Hiro turned his head to face his brother. Yeah. He was. 

//

Two weeks went by in a quick succession of events. 

Hiro found himself spending more time in Tadashi’s room than in his own. As soon as dinner was done, he would march into Tadashi’s home unit to wait for the older man to finish his shower and vacate the bathroom. When he was done bathing himself, Hiro would then meet his sibling back in his assigned space to watch TV, or read a book, or just remain silent in Tadashi’s presence. When the lights would go out, Hiro did not retreat to his own room, but instead fell asleep curled around his older brother’s warmth. 

In the beginning, their interactions felt slightly forced and awkward. However, the younger Hamada continued to try to cultivate their relationship with time and attention, in the burgeoning hopes that it could be just like it once was. At the end of two weeks, their relationship still did not have the same feeling of home, of the exhilaration of creating a bot from sparebots, or of eating Aunt Cass’ baked sweets in their room as they spoke of the future. But, it only took a matter of days before Hiro felt himself ease around Tadashi. After a week, Tadashi’s company, although different from his memory, had become something treasured. 

Hiro spent most of his assigned laboratory time designing, planning, printing and testing his creation. The “nerd crew”, as Wasabi affectionately called the team, visited often, providing what they could, although robotics wasn’t their speciality by any stretch of the imagination. “Urban” also stopped by at least once each day to see how the project was coming along. 

Even on his worst days, it always seemed to go better than his continued combat training, that was for certain. 

Hiro had no qualms about learning combat techniques, per se, but he consistently felt as though his time would have been better spent in his office. Instead of working on his project, he was forced to repeat the same drills and survival techniques that his brother had taught him years ago. It bored him, and Hiro loathed to be bored. 

While everyone else floundered while trying to hold a crossbow, Hiro mastered how to use the specially designed arrows Beetee had created to destroy his targets in a shower of flames and glory. The rest of the group had no idea how to even handle a hunting knife, so they were easily impressed when he maneuvered one in his hand as though it were a toy. When they went on to learn how to create a fire with a piece of wood and flint, Hiro was able to produce better results with a branch and his own bare hands. 

The only training he had found valuable was the close quarters combat session Tadashi taught nearer to the end of his project’s deadline. Hiro had been anxious, though his creation was extremely close to completion. The 3D printer in his office had already churned thousands of his tiny machines, or microbots as he would call them, and just needed to be run for a few more hours before the preparations would be completely ready. 

Hiro’s arms and legs had buzzed with an electrifying energy, fueled by his own nervous adrenaline. Punching and kicking at dummy targets had been a good release of that power. He had focused only on how the practice dummy moved in response to his force, admiring what his body could do. He had allowed his thoughts and feelings to flow through his movements, emptying him of everything. At the end of the session, Hiro felt better than he had in weeks. 

\\\

The night before he was to present his project, Hiro followed Tadashi to the training room for their reflection time. Such was a tradition that they were slowly developing. At times, they would have fun practicing using the various weapons that were at their disposal. Other times, they would sit at the table and reminisce on times long passed. Either way, reflection time was something that Hiro had come to cherish deeply despite his initial wariness over how much of a waste of time it had first seemed. 

“So, what are we doing?” Hiro asked while rubbing his palms together, “Throwing knives? Bow hunting?” 

His elder brother turned his body and gracefully walked backwards. "CQC," Tadashi answered with a knowing smirk. As Hiro trailed in his direction, Tadashi took several, long steps away from him. 

Hiro stopped mid-stride and searched for the dummies that were used in their previous close quarters combat session, but none were to be found. "Where are the practice dummies?" 

Tadashi lightly slapped his hands on his chest, which caused a hollow clap to echo throughout the room. "I'm the dummy, today." 

Hiro smirked. Too easy. “You’re a dummy everyday.” 

Tadashi crossed his arms over his chest. His amusement did not fade from his face, although the space between his eyebrows had tightened. “Ha, ha, very funny. Now, come on get into a stance.” 

Hiro placed his dominant foot behind him. He bent both his arms at a ninety-degree angle in front of his chest. Tadashi mirrored his stance. 

Hiro tried to read his brother’s face and body, but he was completely placid. He couldn’t find a single source of tension from any corner of his body, including his face. When Tadashi used his right leg to deliver a light blow to his side, he didn’t see it coming. On instinct, he winced and curled away. 

“You need to stop dropping your guard, Hiro,” Tadashi commanded. He brought his leg back in front of him. “Also, you can’t always rely on your ability to predict people.” 

Hiro unfurled himself before taking his previous stance. This time, Hiro made the first move, throwing a punch near his older brother’s face. Tadashi stopped the motion by taking a hold of his closed fist. He then pulled Hiro around him, twirling the boy until his back faced Tadashi’s front. To keep him in place, Tadashi twisted Hiro’s arm so that it rested against his spine. 

“You make your movements so obvious, Hiro,” Tadashi scolded playfully against his ear. Despite himself, Hiro felt the words as erotic tingles that coursed through his body. No matter. He strengthened his resolve. He cleared his head and focused on his original intention. 

“Almost like I wanted them to be?” Hiro snapped back. Before Tadashi could react, Hiro snaked a foot around Tadashi’s calf. He pulled his leg upward in a strong enough move to force Tadashi to lose his balance. 

Unfortunately for Hiro, Tadashi did not let go of him, causing him to also lose his footing. Hiro twisted on instinct to try to escape the hold on his arm in time to avoid the fall, but only succeeded in being pulled down over Tadashi. Hiro, draped over his brother, watched as Tadashi’s dazed expression smoothed into that of delight. 

“I’m getting a strange sense of deja vu,” Tadashi snickered. 

Hiro returned the gesture with his own chortle. “We need to stop meeting like this.” Though, his heart wasn’t truly in what he said. 

Hiro was acutely aware of how sensual their position was. His knees were on either side of Tadashi’s hips. Their groins were only separated by the cloth of their jumpsuits. There was very little real pleasure to be had, but it made Hiro feel warm and good all the same. He was desperate to stave of the hunger he had for Tadashi, but he was unable to deny himself the rumbling satisfaction of being in such a compromising state. 

Maybe he could just sate himself in this way? Keep enough distance between he and his sibling to be safe, but partake in a taste now and again. That wasn’t so wrong, was it?

Contended with his decision, Hiro leaned down and rested his forehead against the bridge of Tadashi’s nose. Their lips were so close. He could feel Tadashi’s hard breath against the part of his mouth. All he would have to do was move just a bit further, tilt his head just a little more. 

Tadashi’s communicator announced that it was dinner time, much to Hiro’s chagrin. 

\\\

The presentation was scheduled to be held in the robotics lab at eleven-thirty in the morning. Hiro was allotted a half an hour to present his innovation, which would then be rejected or approved after a deliberation that would last no more than three days. 

The robotics scientists were welcomed to watch, but they were not permitted to work until after Hiro was done. This was met with mixed reactions, not that anyone had a particular choice in the matter. 

At exactly eleven-twenty-nine, Alma Coin, Beetee Latier, Plutarch Heavensbee and three members of their security detail walked into the laboratory. A hush fell over the entire space. 

Hiro, who stood on the raised platform overlooking the laboratory, felt a ghostly force squeeze his heart. A sheen of cold sweat settled itself on his forehead. He felt his fingers tremble and his foot tap unconsciously. The moment he saw the President take a seat at the front of the room, Hiro felt a thick lump form in his throat. 

This feeling was rare for Hiro. He had never had an issue with public speaking before. He had almost single-handedly led the rebellion in District 3, for that matter. This, however, was new. 

The night before, as he traced the lines of his brother’s muscular back in an effort to preoccupy himself while sleep evaded him, he found his mind wandering. He questioned himself and his sudden fear of showcasing his invention. He drifted into a fitful sleep before he could come up with the answer. 

The answer did not make itself known until it stood, plain as day, just behind the President. 

For so long, his entire purpose was to bring down the Capitol. He had wanted to stand atop its rubble and revel in the destruction he had brought forth, but that desire all but dissipated when he found that his brother was given back to him. The black hole of his heart was slowly, but surely, filling with new life. His days were no longer spent wallowing in his loss, his days were spent bonding with his brother over technology and their collection of memories. His anger was very much alive, that he had no doubt, but it crackled like a contained hearthfire instead of blazing like an out-of-control inferno.

Unlike Baymax, which was the embodiment of every good deed Tadashi had ever stood for, his microbots were to be used for destruction. Was that all that there was to him? Violence? 

Hiro stared at his brother, unable to speak or do anything, even as the Coin instructed him to begin his demonstration. Would his brother be proud of the man he had become? What would he think when he was done? Of course, “Urban” knew what was coming, but what of Tadashi? Behind the soldier’s mask, was his brother’s heart breaking for what he had become? 

Then, just before the ice of his apprehension froze him in place, his brother mouthed the word “breathe” to him. Automatically, he did what was suggestion, and to his brother’s credit, he felt better. That was when he realized that, in the end, no matter what happened, his brother would always remain his anchor. 

Hiro reached into his waist pocket and produced a tiny, dark machine that was no bigger than his knuckle. It consisted of two spigot-like shapes connected by a single ball-joint. “This,” the younger Hamada announced as he held the invention high in the air, “is a microbot. It doesn’t look like much, but that’s the idea.

“See, the Capitol is expecting us to use their same tactics, well, this little guy is going to be a huge surprise.” Hiro reached into his other pocket and fished out what appeared to be a headband. He placed it over his ears. “This-” he pointed to the black ring around his head, “-is a neurotransmitter. It is used to send signals to the microbot. I think what I want this little guy to do, and he does it. But, that’s not all.” 

From his opened office spilled waves upon waves of black. The microbots swam over to where Hiro stood on the stage. Once all of them swarmed in a pile next to Hiro, they formed an interconnected box that stood just as tall and as wide as the presenter. “They are electromagnetic, so they have the ability to connect with one another. Give a few hundred of these bad boys to each soldier on the battlefield, and you suddenly have the ability to manipulate the environment around you.

“Now, for the next part, I’ll need to borrow a communicator cuff from someone -” before Hiro could finish his statement, several hands flew in the air, including Tadashi’s. It was no contest. 

“Urban, come up!” Hiro beckoned. He waved his hand in a “come here” motion towards the makeshift stage. Tadashi walked around the row of people that had been standing next to him. He came up onto the platform and positioned himself next to Hiro, who handed him a black pouch that had previously been situated on one of the younger man’s belt loops. “Trade?” he offered slyly. He was awarded a chuckle from Tadashi, as well as some others from the crowd. 

Tadashi took out the communicator cuff from his pocket and handed it over to Hiro. He, in turn, then took the black pouch from his brother. Hiro turned on the cuff with a swipe of his finger, and then proceeded to input commands on the device. Once he was done, he handed the communicator back to his elder brother. 

“Now, what I want you to do is put the communicator on your wrist and the pouch on your belt. Then, let me know when you’re ready, so I can hand you the neurotransmitter, got it?” Hiro asked him instead of addressing the curious crowd. 

Tadashi nodded his response. He did as was instructed before telling Hiro that he was ready. 

The younger man released his microbots back into his office. He lifted the transmitter off of his head and passed it over to Tadashi. The taller man placed the headband on himself. 

“Okay, now, what I want you to do is imagine making a grid around the lab,” Hiro commanded while pointing out the corners of the room.

The microbots that were in Tadashi’s pouch shifted visibly until they pushed passed the cloth flap that contained them. Hundreds of tiny machines created two long lines that squared off the laboratory after only a few moments. 

Hiro nodded. “Good, okay, I want you to command the microbots to give you data about the people in this room with your mind.” 

The microbots did not move, but Tadashi’s communicator cuff vibrated to life on his wrist. Tadashi looked down and saw that on the device’s screen was a grid. Within the grid, rows of red dots smattered the green background. The position of the dots corresponded with that of each person in the room. 

“If you will show our lovely audience what the communicator cuff is telling you,” Hiro suggested while gesturing to the crowd. 

Tadashi turned his wrist so that the screen was visible to the majority of those in the room. A low murmur of approval rose from the scientists on the floor. 

“As you can see, these microrobots can be used as virtual drones!” Hiro almost chirped, “The best part is that they are so small they are nearly undetectable -” 

Several buzzings could be heard echoing throughout the room. In unison, the special guests attending the demonstration look down at their wrists. Hiro threw a look over at Tadashi, who simply shrugged and shook his head. A special message, Hiro concluded 

The president looked up first. Her expression was the same cool one she always seemed to wear. It was difficult to read. 

“Thank you for the lovely presentation, Hiro,” Coin said. The corners of her lips turned just so, giving off the illusion of a pleasant smile. “We will let you know what we think in three days. In the meantime, I’m assigning you to work with Urban on the finishing touches on his own project.” 

Hiro’s heart dropped. 

\---

That night, as everyone gathered to eat their evening meal, the television sets situated in the dining hall played a special broadcast from the Capitol. In the middle of the screen, a strapping blonde boy Tadashi recognized as Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen’s supposed lover, was shown sitting across from Ceasar Flickerman, the host of the Hunger Games. 

Hiro visibly tensed next to him. His eyes flared and his mouth twisted into a sneer. He gripped the fork in his hand so tightly that Tadashi genuinely worried whether or not the metal would bend and break in his hand. The elder brother placed a hand on the top of his little brother’s head and allowed his fingers to play with the long strands just above where his hair was tied in a small rabbit's tail. 

The gesture seemed to soothe the teen minutely, as he released his fork and dropped his shoulders just a fraction. He did not stop staring intently at the screen, however. He watched, as everyone else did, as the boy was interviewed about the botched Quarter Quell that he participated in, as he had volunteered to make sure he could join Katniss in the arena, and the ensuing rebellion. 

Peeta denied over and over that he had any involvement in the rescue of Beetee Latier, Finnick Odair and Katniss Everdeen. To be so certain, he looked into the camera and addressed all of Panem when he called for a cease fire. 

“Traitor!” Hiro was the first to scream. He threw his utensil at the television screen. 

Screams of protests erupted from the crowd, calling for Peeta’s blood. Anything that wasn’t food was thrown towards the image of the boy who begged for peace. 

Tadashi looked away from the commotion, and instead stared down at the plate of food in front of him. He knew, all too well, that Peeta was being manipulated. The onslaught of his memories of the Capitol nauseated him. If only everyone knew, if only Hiro knew, of the horrors that the boy must have gone through. 

Without a word, Tadashi exited the mess hall.


	7. Eyes Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tricky thing  
> Is yesterday we were just children  
> Playing soldiers  
> Just pretending  
> Dreaming dreams with happy endings  
> In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords  
> But now we've stepped into a cruel world  
> Where everybody stands and keeps score
> 
> Keep your eyes open
> 
> Everybody's waiting for you to breakdown  
> Everybody's watching to see the fallout  
> Even when you're sleeping, sleeping  
> Keep your ey-eyes open  
> Keep your ey-eyes open  
> Keep your ey-eyes open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am so sorry this took me so long to get out to you guys, and it's such a short chapter, too. I'd like to thank Lipox24, Kiff44 and my roommate for reading this over and (laughing at me) beta-ing this for me. 
> 
> Warning: anxiety attack and torture mention (basically, I'm so sorry Tadashi, you deserve better than this).

Tadashi heard frantic footsteps fall behind him, announcing Hiro’s presence like a precession. Despite his looming dread over the confrontation he was sure would come, the elder Hamada stopped his walking to allow the younger man to catch up. He took a deep breath in an attempt to soothe the ache that settled in his chest, but it was in vain; he had no such gall to argue over his hasty escape. Yet, he was forced to harden his shaky resolve and turn to meet his red-cheeked, sour-faced brother, who took two short steps before he was at an arm’s length to him. 

“Where are you going?” Hiro asked as though the question were an accusation. It was sharp and lethal, lacerating what was left of his frayed nerves. Tadashi felt his fingers tremble where they rested at his side. 

Tadashi closed his eyes and resigned himself to his near future. He knew, no matter what he said, the turbulent air that brewed between them would rise into a storm. It seemed like such a waste; they had made such wonderful progress, but the other half of the star-crossed lovers of District 12 would set them back. He couldn’t blame Peeta, though. He knew far too well of the horrors that the boy must have faced, and he couldn’t muddle that truth in good conscience. 

Tadashi opened his eyes, but he did not meet Hiro’s gaze. Instead, he stared at the empty space between his boots, unwilling to face the coming tide.“I’m going back to my home unit,” he answered plainly. 

“Why?” Hiro’s question was softer than his previous one, and much more laden with concern, but the edges were still cutting enough to sting. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I was just getting uncomfortable -” 

“Uncomfortable is not the word I would use,” Hiro scoffed. 

Tadashi looked up. His brother’s arms were crossed over his chest and his mouth was set into a pout. It would have been endearing if it weren’t so dangerous. “Why aren’t you more upset?”

Tadashi sighed. Each and every memory he had of his captivity replayed in his mind over and over again, but it wasn’t his own torture he saw, it was Peeta’s. His heart leapt in his throat. He ran a fidgeting hand through his short strands until it worked its way to the back of his sweaty neck. He fought against the heaviness that settled behind his eyes, blurring his vision. His legs quaked underneath him. 

Hiro’s eyes widened a fraction. He unfolded his arms and leaned his upper body forward. “You’re not going to defend him are you?” he hissed with a harsh exhale of breath. 

Tadashi felt his skin prickle against the fabric of his jumpsuit. His fists clenched and unclenched involuntarily. “Hiro, can we talk about this later? Please?” Tadashi nearly begged; his unnaturally pitched voice betrayed his rising panic. 

Hiro’s features twisted in the ugliest way. He looked scandalized. His eyebrows were knit tightly over his narrowed eyes and his mouth slacked. “Unbelievable! Tadashi, he’s calling for a cease fire! He wants -” 

A blur of movement in their peripherals interrupted Hiro’s harsh words. Tadashi threw his head back to catch a brunette female figure running down the hall behind him. Although he could only make out scant details, they confirmed for him that the girl was the one and only Katniss Everdeen 

A pang of empathy went out to the poor girl. He also knew what it was like to watch someone you loved through a screen, helpless to do anything but hope that they would be alright. 

Tadashi felt something capture his wrist. He spun quickly to meet his attacker. The hand at his other side readied itself into a fist, but it melted away quickly when he saw the familiar honey-brown eyes of his would-be foe.

Hiro’s face had turned cold and stony. He looked away from Tadashi. “Come on,” he commanded, “let’s go home.” 

Once they arrived at Tadashi’s home unit, Hiro volunteered to take his shower first. Without so much as sparing a glance at Tadashi, he went to his elder brother’s nightstand, threw the drawer opened and pulled out his rumpled night clothes. He slammed the white plastic back into place, causing Tadashi to jump where he sat on the bed. The boy then proceeded into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a loud, echoing thud. 

When Tadashi heard the rushing sound of water spraying against the bathroom tiles, he used the privacy it offered to curl up on his bed and weep. 

\---

Hiro emerged from the shower stall feeling no calmer than when he went in. He attempted to wash away the anger from his skin, to scrub away the tension from his limbs, to drain the helplessness from his being. No matter how raw he worked his flesh, however, he continued to feel Peeta's gaze, as though it adhered itself to his very soul. 

How useless, he spat to himself as he dried off. While Hiro was stuck in District 13, reduced to Tadashi’s glorified lab assistant, Peeta was in the heart of the Capitol. He could be fighting, aiding the rebels somehow. Instead, he called for a truce and attempted to actively dismantle everything the rebellion had worked so hard for. If Hiro were in the Capitol - he didn’t know what he would do, but no promise of death or torture could force him to sit in their lap of luxury and spout such vile things. 

Hiro dressed hastily and entered their room to confront his brother on the matter. He needed to make him see how harmful his sympathy was to their cause. He was met with a sobbing grey lump on their shared bed. 

What the warmth of his shower could not do, his elder brother's tears did. Hiro felt his fury dull into a sorrow that rested against his diaphragm and behind his eyes. He never meant for this. He never wished for Tadashi's pain, or his broken cries, or for him to crumble where he had once stood tall. Was this his fault? 

Guilt weighed down upon his being, but he used what strength he had left to push passed it and gallop to his brother's side. He sat over the edge of their bed before taking his brother’s shaking shoulder into his gentle palm. It was pushed away with a swing of Tadashi’s toned arm. 

His elder brother snapped his upper body towards him. Tadashi's tear-filled eyes were wild and blown wide. His teeth were bared in an animalistic snarl. "Don't touch me!" he screamed. 

Recognition flashed quickly over Tadashi’s orbs. His grimace melted away into a shamed gasp. His eyebrows raised together as twin rivers of tears rolled down his salted cheeks. He reached a halting hand out towards his little brother, but his quivering fingertips never made contact. “I’m so sorry,” he hiccuped as he held himself just out of reach. 

Hiro completed their connection by taking the hand that was offered to him. He pulled, coaxing his elder brother into a sitting position before tugging him into his tight embrace. “I’m so, so sorry,” Hiro breathed into the side of his hair. “I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.” 

Tadashi shook his head against Hiro’s. “No, no, you couldn’t have known,” he whispered. He squeezed around his younger brother’s back in a constricting hold. The pads of his fingers dug into the folds of his sleep clothes, clutching so tightly onto the fabric that it threatened to rip. 

Hiro eased himself out of Tadashi’s embrace. He placed his sweating palms on his older brother's shoulders. The younger Hamada looked deeply into Tadashi's eyes; he took in the fear, the confusion, the shame, the pain. He understood that something had happened to him while he was away in the Capitol, something that broke his brother irrevocably. He could read his tortured past as plainly as the pages in the nuclear history book resting on their nightstand. "What happened to you?" he asked with a harsh exhale. 

Tadashi looked straight forward. His gaze was not directed at him, but somewhere far away, focused on some place Hiro couldn't reach. "They don't just threaten you, they threatened everyone you love," he muttered beneath his breath. "If I didn't perform the way they wanted me to -" Tadashi hung his head. A pitiful whimper escaped from his wobbling lips. 

"They kept playing a recording of you screaming for help!" Tadashi wailed. He cupped his face with his hands. Though muffled, Hiro could make out all too well the horror that his brother had suffered through, "I didn't know how long it would last. It could have been hours or days, but all I would hear was you screaming for me, asking me why I wasn't helping you or why I didn't love you." 

Hiro felt the force of an earthquake erupt through his core, rumbling throughout his body until every molecule of his flesh rattled. His heart slowed. Cold bullets of sweat ran down the side of his face. He didn't know what to feel. He couldn't feel. Aside from the burning in his stomach, he felt numb. 

"I thought you said you were okay." Hiro's voice was quiet and shallow. 

"I was, I was," Tadashi attempted to assure him with unstable words. "After they stopped the recordings, they would show me that you were fine. They were only warning me against what they could do to you.” 

Suddenly, the numbness burned into a raging typhoon of fire. How dare they? How dare they hurt his precious brother? How dare they use his voice against the person he loved the most? His rage, his hatred, his determination to destroy the Capitol was birthed anew, like a phoenix that rose from the ashes of his hearthfire. 

“Warning? Tadashi! They tortured you!” he nearly screamed. The lines on Hiro’s face sharpened into blade-edges. “I’ll make them pay for this,” he growled with a murderous intent. “I’ll kill Snow myself.” 

Tadashi’s soft hands cupped his cheeks. The red that had coated his vision was abated by his touch. The tempest inside was still swirling, but his brother’s gentle eyes offered him shelter. Without relinquishing his hold on Hiro’s face or gaze, he shook his head once. “No, Hiro, no. We will get through the rebellion and build something better, do you understand?” 

Hiro felt his reality slip through his weakened grasp. He was transported to a time when the brothers were both children. They had created their first robot together. It was small, red with rust, and could only make the most rudimentary motions as it walked over the dirt of their humble yard, but they were proud of it nonetheless. The younger brother catalogued their success in a small leather journal he had scraped from the trash outside of city hall. Within the worn, yellow pages he wrote “Tadashi + Hiro = universe changing technology”. He had never been happier before or since. 

Hiro was pulled back to the present by the gravity that was a soft kiss placed upon his cheek. “Please, don’t cry,” Tadashi pleaded quietly against his skin. 

Hiro hadn’t realized that tears had fallen from his eyes until that moment, but once he felt a hot dampness roll down his face, he couldn’t force himself to stop. Tadashi was powerless to stop him, either, as he bawled along side him. They wept in each other’s arms until they fell asleep. 

\\\\\

Hiro was not surprised to find that his keycard no longer allowed him entry to what was once his personal office. Tadashi had tried to reassure him that it was only for the time being, that District 13 had yet to make an official decision on his project, and that it seemed as though the leaders were impressed with his work. Regardless, he couldn't help but feel as though he were being punished for what he had delivered. 

Hiro refused to allow himself to feel defeated, though; he knew his tech was outstanding. Convincing his higher-ups of that fact? That was a different story, and one that he was forced to deal with at another time. In the meantime, he made the best of his situation and looked forward to shadowing his brother during his job duties. 

Rather than spend the day in the lab, however, Callaghan assigned them to the field. During the alpha testing stages of his development lifecycle, Baymax was able to correctly diagnose and identify treatments for nearly all of the patients admitted to the hospital wing on his own. It was time to see whether or not the robot could actually make use of his programming and give physical care. While Prim would continue to collect data, as she had done for the last month, it was up to the Hamada brothers to make sure that any malfunctions did not result in further harm to District 13’s citizens. 

On their way down to the medical wing, Hiro felt an uncomfortable coil tighten in his belly. He was less than enthused about the idea of spending the entire day in Primrose’s presence. But, when he made his objections known in the elevator, Tadashi flat out refused to allow another apothecary to take over. He assured him, however, that regardless of his strange dislike for the girl, he wouldn’t be forced to acknowledge their assistant. He was just there to observe and fix when necessary. 

Baymax and Prim met the two at the lobby. Tadashi made his hellos before Baymax turned his attention to the younger man. 

“Hello, Hiro,” Baymax greeted with a wave of his hand. 

Hiro was helpless against the smile that stubbornly curled his lips. “Hey there big guy, how are you doing?” 

“I seem to be operating optimally,” Baymax responded. His head tilted to one side. He gave the boy an exaggerated blink. “Thank you for asking.” 

Hiro hid his small bubble of amusement behind a loosely curled palm. “No problem,” he chuckled lightly. 

The younger Hamada glanced quickly to the elephant in the room. To Hiro’s immediate relief, Prim did not approach or make any attempts at an introduction. Instead, she turned on her heel and headed to their first patient without a word. 

Patient one was an elderly woman suffering from the late stages of dementia. She looked so small and frail surrounded by an ocean of pale blankets. The feeble woman was seemingly kept alive by the plastic tubing and metal contraptions that lined her bed. Long, grey hair was splashed every which way upon her pillow. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Deep lines were carved around her mouth, which slacked unnaturally to one side. Every so often, she made a breathy complaint that sounded like a cushion deflating. 

Hiro, despite his good conscience, felt himself grimace at the sight. He wondered briefly how Tadashi, or even Primrose, was able to look upon this woman with the compassion that was so evident in their eyes. Meanwhile, Hiro could only try his best to push down his discomfort and be as professional as possible. 

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Ryder?” Tadashi asked with a bright smile. He took her withered hand into his own and gently patted the top. His hand was so strong and smooth compared to the one he held as though it were a butterfly. 

Hiro felt his heart flutter in his chest. He swallowed dryly as he shifted. 

The woman hummed her acknowledgment. To Hiro’s utter astonishment, something shined through the dullness in her eyes. 

"That's good," Tadashi responded with restrained humor in his tone. It was the same kind of voice he had once used when Hiro was sick and whining at him. It was friendly, fatherly, and heart shatteringly familiar. "Would you mind if Baymax changed your IV bag?” 

The woman made another noise. Hiro found it difficult to interpret, but Tadashi translated it perfectly. He assured the elderly woman that it would be alright, and that he would be right there if need be. Hiro's heart rate increased exponentially. 

After a moment's hesitation, the woman nodded her head once. As if on cue, Baymax waddled over to the IV drip that stood on the other side of the hospital bed. Though Hiro had initially thought that his fingers would be too big and clumsy to assist with this particular procedure, Baymax managed to change the IV bag within mere moments with a human-like precision. 

Hiro nodded at Tadashi. Well done, he thought to himself. 

After meeting with their first patient, they made several more rounds around the hospital wing. Most cases were extremely simple, consisting of minor ailments or non-life threatening injuries. Then, they reached the mental health ward. There were was only one admitted patient: Finnick O’dair. Hiro was curious as to what Baymax could do for the District 4 victor who, according to the electronic chart he was given, suffered from general anxiety and bouts of mental distress. 

They entered his room. There, a strapping young blonde focused his green eyes on the rope that was in his hands. He knotted it once, twice, before he looked up at the group. The top half of his face looked startled, but the bottom was fixed in a strange, bemused smirk. 

“Before there was Katniss and Peeta, there were the star-crossed lovers from District 3,” he muttered quietly to himself. He turned his attention back to the rope in his hand. 

Hiro exchanged a look with Tadashi. The elder Hamada shrugged, acknowledging the bewilderment with his own. 

“Finnick, I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Urban,” Tadashi introduced himself carefully as he approached the man’s bedside. “We’re here to give you your anti-anxiety medication.” 

Finnick stopped his movements. A tic worked its way to his jaw. “Sorry, my mistake.” 

“It’s alright-” 

Finnick interrupted Tadashi with a humorless chuckle. He shook his head. His fidgeting fingers worked another knot in his rope. Without ceasing his motions, the District 4 victor looked passed Tadashi and to the younger man in the room. 

His eyes bore holes into Hiro’s flesh. There was something about his gaze that left him feeling exposed. The robotics expert’s feet fidgeted underneath him.

“What about you?” Finnick asked hoarsely. “Are you Hiro Hamada or are you another look-a-like?” 

Hiro’s eyebrow quirked. Unconsciously, his right leg shifted forward. His hands tightened around the electronic pad in his hands. “How do you know - ?” 

Finnick rolled his eyes and threw his hands theatrically down on either side of his lap. He laughed dryly; the sound made Hiro flinch. “It’s hard to forget the genius darling child from District 3,” the other man nearly purred. “Everyone wanted a piece of you, and even all grown up, you’re still as adorable as ever.” 

Hiro felt his face heat. He looked down at the data in his hands, trying his best to ignore the thumping of his heart and the tightness in his chest. It wasn’t the first time that someone had acknowledged his strange brand of beauty, but it almost felt as though it were. 

Tadashi clicked his tongue, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “Would you mind if Baymax were to adminastor your medication, Finnick?” he asked tersely. 

Hiro swallowed a gasp. It was jarring to hear his brother speak to a stranger in such a way. Even Prim, who up until that point had kept her features in a neutral expression, mirrored his stunned face. 

The victor smiled, though his eyes remained dull and hollow. “Not at all,” he answered with a spoiled cheer. He presented his arm out to Tadashi. 

Baymax, who had been standing in the doorway, waddled passed Primrose and Hiro. He approached Finnick and made his customary introductions before taking the man’s arm into his inflated hand. A chubby finger from his free hand sprayed a fine mist over the area where his upper and lower arm met. He then placed the same finger against his skin. A hiss filled the air. 

Finnick smiled wryly at Baymax, but his eyes flickered over to Tadashi. He winked. “Hardly felt it.” 

Hiro had never seen Tadashi or Baymax exit a room so quickly in his life. 

\--- 

On his back, Tadashi rummaged through the undercarriage of the front medical console. The console was, essentially, a large screen displaying minimalistic information on the patients admitted into the hospital, but it also carried the server that contained the databases on all of the medical information that was stored in District 13. He pulled out a long, colorful cable from the rack that was situated on the inside of the cabinet and handed it over to a crouching Hiro. 

“You still haven’t told me what we’re doing,” Hiro complained as he inserted the male end of the cord into the female port on the back of Baymax’s shining carrying case. 

Tadashi wriggled his way out of the small compartment. He sat up, forcing a long exhale of breath out of his nose.“Baymax can’t update his database tables in real time until I get permission to use District 13’s wireless frequencies, so I have to update them manually once a week,” Tadashi explained. 

Hiro nodded, presumably in understanding, but his face was still twisted in puzzlement. “Why won’t they let you use their frequencies?” 

Tadashi let out a small laugh. Hiro was a genius, and the elder Hamada had long since made his peace with the fact that his baby brother would always be much more intelligent than he, but if it was one thing Tadashi understood more than Hiro did, it was human nature. “They don’t trust me. I’m from the Capitol, so they’re still worried that I’ll report back to the mothership.” Tadashi placed his large hand on Hiro’s head and ruffled his bangs. “You need a haircut.” 

Hiro snorted and pushed his brother’s hand away from his face. “And you, my dear Urban, need to shave your face. Seriously, don’t they have a dress code for soldiers like you?” he quipped back. 

As if on cue, Tadashi’s communicator cuff buzzed in his pocket. His face scrunched in bewilderment; it was still a good few hours before his next scheduled reminder for dinner. He retrieved the small device and opened the message on the screen with his index finger. It read, “Disregard your current schedule, please head to command ASAP”. 

Tadashi felt his heart speed up. Concern rested against his temples. He took a deep breath. “Command is calling for me, I need to go.” 

Hiro tilted his head and worried the his bottom lip between his front teeth. His eyes mirrored Tadashi’s internal unease. “Do I come with you?” he asked after a moment. 

Tadashi shook his head. He stood from where he was seated in an awkward, clunky movement. “No, not yet anyway. If I need you, I’ll have someone come get you.” Tadashi made a half-step over to Baymax’s storage compartment and tilted it. He reached into the opening underneath for its information tablet and handed it to Hiro. “For now, just monitor the update for any SQL errors. It’ll be a while, so try walking around, greeting some of the patients, let them get comfortable with you, okay?" 

Hiro audibly gulped, but nodded. 

\\\\\

Despite his trepidation, Tadashi schooled his features into the perfect soldier's mask. He made his way to command with a purpose in his step. His stance seemingly held a magical property to it, as those in his way merely parted to allow him through, whether it was giving him a large breadth in the elevator or dodging around him in the hallways. It made his heart sink just the tiniest bit.

Before too long, he entered the darkly lit war room where Alma Coin and Plutarch Heavensbee were sitting on the opposite sides of the command table.

“Urban,” Coin greeted plainly. She turned in her seat towards him. She placed her folded hands on her lap and leaned forward. “We have a question to ask you.” 

An endless array of questions and answers circled through his head, making him dizzy. Had they discovered him? Did they want information on the Capitol? Did they find out about Hiro’s outburst? Tadashi felt his knees wobble in his uniform, but he did not allow them to threaten his stability. Instead, he locked his legs and hammered out a, “Yes?” 

Plutarch took the opportunity to mimic Alma’s stance. “Katniss has agreed to be the official Mockingjay. She will be doing a series of propaganda films to -” he paused, as though he were trying to find the right word to say, “- strengthen the rebellion efforts, but in exchange, she has asked us to meet a few conditions.” 

"This is where you come in," Coin explained. "One of her conditions is that we rescue the remaining living victors from where they’re being kept in the Capitol. Since you’re the first person to successfully lead a rescue mission of this kind, we are asking that you volunteer when the time comes." 

Tadashi remained silent. He imagined each possible outcome, including the one that ended in his probable death if he were to agree and the one that ended in his ostracization if he were to decline. While the word "volunteer" was heavily pronounced, he knew that there would be negative consequences if he chose inaction. What was worse, those consequences would not only befall him, but Hiro as well. His younger brother was already having a difficult time adjusting to life in District 13, and the leadership as a constant companion on his shoulder would surely end with him in jail, if not worse. Tadashi shuddered at the notion. 

“Okay,” Tadashi agreed resolutely. “I’ll do it.” 

\---

Boy, Tadashi wasn’t lying when he said that updating Baymax’s databases would take a while, Hiro thought to himself. He sat in the same spot for nearly fifteen minutes, monitoring the rows upon rows of data that were being added and encrypted in his hands. From the progress bar at the bottom-right of his screen, it indicated he was only a quarter of the way through. 

Hiro wondered how Tadashi entertained himself for an hour while his robot was updating, but his mind quickly turned to his adamant suggestion of “getting to know the patients in the ward”. 

Hiro scoffed. He had never been one for interacting with strangers for absolutely no other reason than to just be friendly. It wasn’t as though he had an aversion to social interactions, per se, but he wasn’t a “small talk” kind of person. He could go on for hours about magnetic-bearing servos and programming languages, but "shooting the breeze" was just not something he had any fondness for. 

Instead, he fell into his habit of humming. Since he was a child, whenever he was bored, he would hum or sing to himself. Tadashi had encouraged the habit, and affectionately called his tunes nonsense songs. Though others must have found the behavior odd or even annoying, his elder brother seemed to appreciate the creative lyrics he would weave without even thinking. Sometimes, during a bad thunderstorm, Tadashi would ask him to sing him a song to distract him from the chaos outside. 

Hiro began to snap his fingers as his song started to take shape. In between each snap, he would tap his foot to the beat. After a few moments, his head began to move to his own melody. 

His thoughts turned to his current reality of being an adopted citizen of District 13. "Locked inside a stasis~" Hiro sang. "Totally petrified~"

Hiro thought of his new life, of his new boundaries. He thought of his machines, and how rejected he felt after their initial dismissal. He knew, he absolutely knew, that District 13 wouldn’t allow him to produce them for their soldiers, not after the way President Coin had brushed him off after his presentation. “Afraid of segregating, my fears were justified ~” 

If only he had been able to produce the machinery within the walls of District 3. They would have done so much good in his home district, used as vital tools to aid the rebels and bring down the capitol’s forces, instead of stuck in storage bins in the robotics department. Hiro, himself, could have been useful, instead of stuck sitting on the floor of a hospital. “My moves so calculated, I wasted all my time~” 

He closed his eyes. He thought of everything he had ever wanted for the rebellion: to live without fear, to have a taste of true freedom, but most of all, to have the satisfaction of avenging his brother. Though his motivation had changed, fueled by vengeance for Tadashi’s ill treatment rather than his death, he still craved to feel President Snow’s neck break under his hands. His stomach sank.“The world I had created, I couldn’t make it mine~” 

Tadashi’s image appeared in his mind’s eye. Despite the swirling disappointment resting in his belly, he smiled. Since finding the elder Hamada alive, pieces that had fallen away from his broken world had started to come back together. “Now only your force is moving my feet, pulling me on with your restlessly, all I feel is at home, skin and bone.” 

The thought of his elder brother reminded him of his unresolved feelings for him. After so many days of squelching, repressing and wishing away his unsavory emotions for Tadashi, he still felt his heart race and his stomach drop around him. The worst part was that he didn’t know whether or not he wanted it to stop. It felt so vile yet so good all at once, and that made everything all the more confusing. 

“Do I run with the ghost I see? Integrate another side of me? To align my soul, arriving whole~” 

\\\\\

The update took another thirty-two minutes to complete, finishing just before the announcement that blared through the speakers, commanding all District 13 citizens to congregate on the “auditorium” level for an announcement. Hiro momentarily wondered what that announcement could be, but as the medical staff began to shuffle out of the wing, he stood from his seat on the floor without another thought. He turned towards the exit and came face-to-face with Primrose. 

“Did you want to go down with me?” she asked expectantly. 

Something painful flared in his chest. Hiro felt conflicted. The goodness in him wanted to bite down his distaste and just wordlessly go along with her. A bigger part of himself wanted to snarl at her until she turned tail and ran. Instead, he swayed where he stood, unable to do much more than just glare daggers at the girl. 

Prim’s expression changed minutely, but it was enough for Hiro to recognize it as an acknowledgement of something unsaid. “You don’t like me,” she observed passively. “Why?” 

Hiro was taken aback by the question. Why? Because seeing her reminded him of the games, of Tadashi volunteering in his stead, of knowing that his volunteering would never be remembered while Katniss’ sacrifice would be memorialized because she had the good fortune of having a love interest, of watching his older brother die in the games and knowing in his heart that it was his fault. Most of all, he hated her because, “When I look at you, I see myself.” 

Hiro saw how helpless they were. He saw how truly powerless they were to care for the only person who had ever truly mattered in their lives. Her story was written so much like his own, and the words scrawled within her easy eyes reminded him that it was his name that was drawn from the lottery. He was the one who should have gone to the games, he should have been the one to fight, but he had an older sibling who loved him so much that he was prepared to die for him. Hiro didn’t deserve that. He could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve Tadashi’s love. 

The girl nodded solemnly. “Your brother, Tadashi, right? I remember. I’m really sorry.” 

Something shattered inside of Hiro. He sucked his quivering bottom lip into his mouth. The boy nodded as he attempted to blink back the tears that threatened to spill. “Yeah,” he exhaled. “You and me both.” 

Prim nodded. “We have to go.” She held out her hand. 

Hiro took it. 

\\\\\

Hiro reluctantly let go of Prim’s hand when they converged with the rest of the bodies that had gathered in mass on the auditorium level of District 13. In reality, the “auditorium” was merely a single floor where people stood just below the stage erected one level above. However, it had every feeling of a gathering chamber as people clammered neatly in rows underneath the podium.

“I’m going to try to find Urban, you stay with the rest of the medical team, okay?” Hiro suggested as he separated from Prim. He didn’t give her enough time to confirm or even acknowledge his words before he navigated his way through the mass congregation of people. 

Hiro felt suffocated, as though the crowd around him stole the oxygen from his lungs. The collective body heat around him boiled his skin unbearably, causing sweat to settle just below his bangs and underneath his arms. Yet, he was determined to pull through and find his brother, desperate to see him for reasons he didn’t want to ponder about. After what felt like a near eternity, he spotted the back of Tadashi’s head. 

Hiro danced and dodged around the audience that was settling itself in its final position before the presentation would start. He reached Tadashi’s side and took his arm gently in his hand. Tadashi turned his head sharply toward him. 

The younger Hamada gulped audibly. This wasn’t his older brother; this was the hard-faced soldier he had met on his first day in District 13. 

Distantly, he heard President Coin begin her speech, but Hiro was far more preoccupied with reading the mission that Tadashi was given in the hard lines of his face. Just as he opened his mouth to try to coax out more details, the president offered everything Hiro wanted to know. The victors that had been captured by The Capitol during the botched Quarter Quell would be rescued in exchange for Katniss’ cooperation in the rebellion efforts. 

Hiro was too flabbergasted to join in the jeering of the crowd.


	8. Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I look in the mirror  
> And I try to see myself  
> My head full of terror  
> From the games I played so well  
> I try to see clearer  
> I try to forget the fires I started  
> I try to be nearer  
> To where you are  
> To where you are
> 
> Are we star-crossed lovers?  
> Did I really want you gone?  
> If I'm really a winner  
> Where did these demons come from?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter! I'm so sorry, you guys. It'll start getting into the heavier stuff in the next chapter, I promise. Again, thanks to my betas, Lipox24 and Kiff44 for their input and corrections. 
> 
> Warnings for slight nsfw material.

Hiro ate his dinner in silence. He stared at his plate, not daring to make eye contact with his friends, lest they try to pull him into their conversation. He stabbed at his tasteless food with his fork, but made little effort to actually eat his meal other than to take small nibbles of his bread. Yet, the starchiness of his humble roll did little to soak the stomach acid that boiled in his belly, threatening to make him ill. 

He bit back a whimper. How could this be happening to him, again? How could he be potentially losing his brother for a second time? 

Hiro’s questions settled heavily underneath his eyes. He found himself blinking rapidly every so often in an effort to push them back. Nevertheless, over the course of their dinner time, he was forced to wipe his wet eyes with the back of his hands discretely. 

He couldn’t cry, not like this, not in public where his weakness would be on display for the world to see. He didn’t have the energy to be questioned, and any consolation given to him would just add to the anxiety that electrified the space between his skin and bones. No, he would wait to release his tears during bathing time, where the privacy of his shower could mask every negative emotion that demanded to be freed. 

After dinner, the Hamada brothers entered their shared space without exchanging acknowledgements of each other’s existence. For a brief moment, Hiro was relieved, but when he attempted to make his way to their dresser, he was stopped by tight, warm fingers closing around his wrist.

No, no, no, he begged Tadashi internally. He needed him to let go. He couldn’t face his older brother, not right then. He hadn’t the fortitude to keep his wrath, his despair bottled up. If he turned around his feelings would explode with the fury of a nuclear bomb, and he was sure it would destroy everything that lay between them. Their relationship already lay on a foundation of glass, and Hiro was desperate to keep it from breaking. 

“Hiro,” Tadashi called out so softly, so soothingly that it jarred the younger boy from his thoughts. “Hiro, please, talk to me. I know you’re upset.” 

The dam inside Hiro broke. His emotions swept over him, and he was powerless to stop the coming tide. Without forethought, Hiro spun on his heel. Every fiber of his being wanted to hurt Tadashi in retaliation for the pain he had caused him. He wanted to slap him, push him, punch him, take his suffering out on him. Instead, he ran into his arms and embraced him. He wept, staining the fabric of his shirt with his tears. 

“Why you?” Hiro hiccuped against his shoulder. “Why can’t they pick someone else?” 

A hand curled over Hiro’s head. A strong arm settled itself around his shoulders. The gesture was far from comforting, but it gave Hiro the stability he needed to stay upright while his knees wobbled.

“You know why,” Tadashi whispered. “I’m the best man for the job.”

Hiro shook his head vigorously. He pressed himself tighter against his older brother. “No, Tadashi,” he moaned. “It’s a suicide mission, and you know it. There’s no way you’ll make it out.” 

Tadashi pulled away from his younger brother’s embrace. He carded a hand through Hiro’s soft bangs before placing the palm on his wet, swollen cheek. The elder Hamada’s eyes were easy going, and his smile had a light, airy quality to it. If not for the slight tremble of his shoulders, Hiro could almost allow himself to believe he was at ease. 

“Hiro, look,” he said while rubbing a comforting line over his younger brother’s cheek with his thumb. “Nothing is set in stone yet. They don’t even have a rescue plan drawn up. For all we know, the rebellion will be over by the time we have an opportunity to rescue the victors.”

Tadashi’s tender promise of more time brought Hiro a brief sense of peace. He closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. For a moment, he allowed himself to just revel in the feel of his brother alive and warm against his flesh. 

Yet, his reprieve was only due to being in the eye of the storm. His anxiety still loomed in the distance, just a breath out of reach. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he had left with Tadashi. At any moment, without warning, District 13 could pluck him from his arms and send him to what would surely be a firing squad.

Through some miracle of fate, Hiro’s beloved brother, his most precious friend had been returned to him, but there would be no hope for a second godsend. This would be it, this would be goodbye for sure, and the only mercy he had was that, at the very least, he had the opportunity to properly say his farewells this time around. 

At the realization, Hiro dissolved into pitiful sobs. Their last parting broke him, and the only reason he continued to live, to breathe, to function was because he had the rebellion. In District 13, he had nothing. If Tadashi were to die, it would kill him. 

Hiro placed a hand over the one that was curled around the side of his face. “I can’t, Tadashi,” he bawled. “I can’t do it. I can’t say goodbye again.” 

Tadashi leaned forward and placed a warm pair of lips on his forehead. “You won’t have to, Hiro. I promise, when the time comes, I’ll come back to you,” he whispered against his skin. 

Hiro was not comforted; there was no way that Tadashi could keep his promise, not with any guarantee. “You can’t say that for sure.” 

Tadashi straightened his back. He gazed down at him with warmth and determination in his eyes.“I made that promise before, didn’t I?” Tadashi asked through a slight chuckle. “You should have a little more faith in your big brother, knucklehead. Besides, it’s different this time, I’ll be going in with a team.” 

A sudden light illuminated the darkness of Hiro’s thoughts. Team, yes, perfect, Tadashi would be going in with a team. The notion brought about a hope that whispered brilliant possibilities. If he was going with a team, then surely they would take volunteers? If they took volunteers - “I’ll go with you!” Hiro cried out nearly hysterically.

Tadashi’s expression broke into bemusement. “What? No, Hiro -” 

“I’ll go with you,” Hiro insisted resolutely, with enough power to stop a moving train. His eyes hardened, and his mouth set itself into a firm line. “I can bring my microbots. We can do this together.” 

“Hiro, they’ll only take trained soldiers. You haven’t even passed your military exam -” 

Hiro balled his fists over the fabric Tadashi’s shirt. “You said we have time, right? I’ll do it. I’ll train. I’ll come with you,” Hiro whined as though he were pleading for his brother to somehow make his wish come to fruition. He leaned forward until his forehead met his brother’s collarbone. “Please, Tadashi, please.” 

\---

Tadashi wrapped his arms around his younger brother’s trembling shoulders. He was desperate to do or say something that would assuage his beloved from his fear, without actually giving into his horrendous suggestion of allowing him to join the mission, but his mind ran through the same disheartening mantra over and over again. 

If only he hadn’t volunteered to rescue the victors from the Capitol. 

If only there was a way to escape his orders without the fallout crippling his brother. 

If only Hiro’s name hadn’t been reaped. 

If only they had been born in the Capitol. 

If only...if only...if only…

Tadashi pushed passed his appalling thoughts and built himself back up into a fortress with his determination be strong for Hiro. He couldn’t let his little brother know that he didn’t want to go either, that he didn’t want to be separated from him, not for a second time, not ever. While he knew that there was a true possibility that he may never come back to him, he refused to verbalize that reality if it meant that Hiro could believe in his ability to stay alive. 

He stopped himself from succumbing to his misery by holding onto Hiro even tighter. He didn’t want to die, not without knowing what it was like to love his sweet, beautiful Hiro in earnest, though he realized, with a sickening twist in his stomach, that such a life could never be a possibility even if he did survive. He could live a thousand years and never know what it meant to be his lover, he was certain of that. 

Tadashi felt a thickness build in his throat. Knowing that what he truly wanted would forever be out of his reach pulled at his heart and crushed his soul He wasn’t sure if he could cease to live before being okay with that, but he wanted to be. He would be, he resolved. 

For the time being, he focused on stopping Hiro’s tiny whimpers of protest. Tadashi knew Hiro had been feeling helpless lately, and although he was loathe to do it, he knew that his only course of action was to exploit that particular weakness. “Hey, look, I can’t guarantee they’ll let you come, but why don’t you help me train, okay? We’ll even use your microbots.” 

Hiro stiffened in his arms. For a moment, an icicle of fear stabbed his center, but it melted when he felt his brother nod against his clavicle. 

It would have to be enough. It had to be. 

///

The shower did little to ease the strain that pulled at the corner’s of Tadashi body. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself to relax, to close his eyes and allow the warmth of his shower to melt away the apprehension that clung to his bones. Each time he would make an attempt to unwind, images of being captured and tortured by peacekeepers flashed behind his eyelids, causing him to gasp and stiffen into a mockery of a fighting stance. 

Tadashi tossed his head back against the tile of the shower stall. He willed himself to think of something else, think of anything else, but all that came to mind was his death - or Hiro. 

Tired of being reminded of his own mortality, Tadashi let go of his trepidation over his strange predilections and allowed his thoughts drift to his younger brother, albeit with a frustrated growl. He traced the image of Hiro’s silhouette with his mind’s eye. He had to admit that the younger boy had grown much more handsome in the last four years.

Although he was definitely different, more lean and devoid of the small curves that had once given him a feminine figure, he was still as beautiful as ever. His impish grin, his small laugh, the way his cat-like mouth spoke a mile a minute while the wheels in his head turned almost visibly, his confident leers when participating in combat training, everything about him was endearing and attractive all at once, leaving Tadashi flustered and longing for Hiro’s amorous love. 

Without a conscious thought, Tadashi’s hand drifted until it grasped the hardening length between his legs. He hissed at the sudden sensation. He hadn’t done this in so long that it almost seemed as though his body had forgotten how good it felt to be touched. He gave himself slow, languid strokes, reveling in the soft waves of pleasure that crashed within his core. A catalogue of tried-and-true fantasies surfaced in his mind, fueling him further. A low, rumbling hum escaped his throat 

“Tadashi?” 

Tadashi’s eyes sprang open. He found himself face-to-face with the very nude object of his desires, who had opened the shower curtain and stared at him with wide eyes. His small mouth was parted slightly, allowing his breath to escape in quick, short pants. The fingers that fisted the plastic of the bathroom divider balled themselves tighter, crinkling the material noisily. The boy’s shoulders and legs trembled ever so slightly, but it was enough to catch his older brother’s attention. 

Tadashi’s heart sped to a full gallop. Shivers cascaded pleasantly down the length of his spine until they curled just below his pelvis. His growing lust burned hotly over his wet skin. “Hiro,” the elder Hamada said quietly beneath his breath. 

Said boy’s eyes clouded with something dark and mischievous. Hiro bit his bottom lip as the rest of his mouth curled into a filthy smirk. Tadashi’s breath hitched in his throat. 

Hiro said nothing. Instead, he took one stride towards his elder brother before falling on his knees. He batted Tadashi’s hand away from his erection and replaced it with his own. He stroked his cock with just enough of a grip to feel good, but it was nowhere near gratifying. The elder Hamada let out a small groan

A victorious grin plastered itself on Hiro’s face. Tadashi felt a slight twinge of irritation pierce his chest. He wanted to wipe that smug smile off of his features. He would rather see the teasing boy’s perfect expression be ruined by his manhood stretching his lips obscenely. Tadashi smirked; if this was going to be a game, he was damn sure going to win. 

The taller man threaded a hand through Hiro’s hair, petting him softly before curling his long fingers over the soft, dampening strands. His grip tightened, but he was sure to exercise the proper precaution necessary to not hurt his lover. With the added leverage, he coaxed Hiro’s face to meet his crotch obscenely with a gentle tug. 

“You know what to do,” Tadashi growled richly in his throat. 

Hiro trembled. He placed his unoccupied hand on Tadashi’s hip while he continued to stroke his brother’s thick length. He leaned his upper body forward and - 

///

“Tadashi?” 

Tadashi’s eyes sprang open. He released himself as though his hand had been burned. With a quick forethought, he twisted his body around to prevent even his shadow from revealing his previous actions. 

“Y-yeah?” he called out with a slight stutter.

“Just checking. You were taking a while, so -” Hiro responded, elongating the last word exaggeratingly. 

Tadashi breathed in through his nose. He closed his eyes and tossed his head back. If he didn't get captured by the Capitol first, that kid would be the death of him some day. 

\---

Hiro had become so robotically accustomed to receiving his schedule every morning that he hadn’t realized, until after he shoved a spoonful of porridge down his gullet, that his wrist dictated something different that day. While his morning routine would remain the same, the timeslot where “combat training” should have been was replaced with “weapons construction and utilization”. The activity would be on the same floor as his previous assignment, but in a different hall. He rubbed at the words with his thumb, half-expecting that they would change with his constant brushing. 

He looked up and to his brother next to him. With his forearm, he nudged the older man’s upper arm lightly. Tadashi glanced at him with a light but expectant expression. 

“What does your schedule say?” Hiro asked. At the stretch of the lines over Tadashi’s forehead, the younger Hamada presented his arm. He pointed out the changes that were listed with his index finger, tapping at the space just next to it twice. 

Tadashi lifted his sleeve and found that his schedule, too, had changed. “Field Training”, along with instruction to appear in the same room Hiro was assigned to, was etched into his skin where “combat training” had once appeared. 

“Hey guys,” Tadashi called out to his friends, who ceased their conversation the moment his words entered into the atmosphere. Four pairs of eyes landed intently on him. Adequately satisfied that he had their attention, Tadashi asked, “Did you guys get a change to your combat training?” 

They all lifted their grey sleeves nearly simultaneously. Confusion pulled at their features momentarily as they stared at the smooth expanse of their wrists. 

Fred was the first to escape their bewilderment and react. A grin broke through the surface of his face and spread rapidly from ear to ear. His eyes sparkled with a childlike excitement. “Heck yeah! We’ve been promoted to actual combat training, like, outside combat training. We’re going to be real rebels!” 

GoGo smirked. A small snort of breath escaped her nose. She leaned back in her chair and admired her wrists as though it were a piece of art. “It’s about time,” GoGo replied. “We’ve been training long enough.” 

Honey-Lemon’s smile illuminated their table, almost too brightly for Hiro’s tastes. She bounced in her seat. She fidgeted from side to side as she displayed her wrist to the rest of the group. “This is so great! We’ll be District citizens now.” she cheered. 

Wasabi was the only one who didn’t seem enthused. In fact, he looked as though he were on the verge of losing his porridge. His eyebrows were knitted upwards while his wide eyes scanned the same line over and over again. “I can’t do this,” he muttered excitedly under his harsh breathing. 

Tadashi was the first to comfort his taller friend by informing him that he could do this. At the very least, he reminded Wasabi, it wasn’t as though he was actually going into battle. It would just be training, and he would be fine. They would all be fine once they were used to the changes. 

Hiro found very little comfort in his words, unlike Wasabi who stopped his hyperventilating and smiled nervously at his friends. Hiro was far too aware of what these changes meant. It made his situation so starkly real that he felt the world tilt on its axis. Tadashi would soon be going to the Capitol. He would soon be out of his grasp. He would soon lose the only person who truly mattered to him. 

Hiro left his meal unfinished. 

\---

During Baymax’s testing, in an effort to perk up the younger and seemingly downtrodden Hamada, Tadashi played an old, yet still surprisingly amusing, game with his brother. Occasionally, he would poke Hiro’s arm or side, urging small yet reluctant smiles from the boy. Tadashi would chuckle to himself whenever he achieved the desired result, but feigned innocence when Hiro would look at him accusingly. 

Prim seemed to find the exchange between the two just as comical, as she would hide a bright smile behind her data tablet whenever the boys giggled at one another. 

Eventually, the game escalated. Tadashi found his side, arm, leg, or any other exposed body part mercilessly poked with a pen or finger. In retaliation, he would quickly jab at his beloved, who would attempt to dodge the blow without calling attention to himself. Just as the end of their rounds came to a close, they found themselves in the oddest of tickle fights, trying to dodge and assault each other while also attempting to keep a professional air about them. 

When they came to Finnick’s room, the game had evolved into a battle of wills: who would break their professionalism first? They tried all manner of torture techniques, including physical touches, subtle innuendos and making exaggerated faces at one another. In the end, the first person who broke was Prim, who gave an uncharacteristic snort from where she stood at the door behind her electronic medical chart. 

Finnick merely smirked as he rubbed the spot where Baymax injected him with his medication. “You guys put on quite a show,” he remarked with a dark, almost satirical humor. He looked between the two brothers and gave them a single inclination of his head 

What he was trying to acknowledge, Tadashi had very little clue. 

\---

Tadashi and Hiro made their way down to their newly designated area after lunch. They exchanged pleasantries along their short journey, allowing their curiosity of what their new orders were to be verbally acknowledged amongst each other. Neither dared to speak of what their new orders obviously meant, but it was far better than the all encompassing silence that they had been accustomed to stretching between them as of late. 

Just as they were but a few steps away from their assigned room’s automatic doors, they hissed open. Katniss Everdeen stepped outside and politely walked around them with the briefest of acknowledgements. Behind her, a man who mirrored Tadashi’s height and build exited. He was olive-skinned and his eyes were a distinct forest green color, but something about the man was distinctly “Urban”-like. 

Hiro felt himself bristle, but it had very little to do with the girl who made her way passed him. There was something about the way the male soldier carried himself that reminded him of the military act that Tadashi was forced to play when in the eyes of their leadership. The stance was harsh, gruff, and commanded not only respect, but fear. Hiro did not play well with people who intimidated others by their mere presence, intentional or not. 

“Katniss,” the man called out to his companion. She stopped and half-turned her body towards him. He waved her off. “Go ahead. I’ll join you in a minute.” 

The brunette nodded and continued on her way. 

The man focused his hard eyes on Tadashi. After a brief moment, a handsome smile charmed the stiff line of his mouth. He held out his calloused hand. “Urban, right? I’m Gale, I’ll be training with you and the other volunteers.” 

Tadashi returned the smile, though Hiro noted that his was far more gentle. His elder brother’s expression was soft and pliable where the other man's was stony and cracked at the edges. He took Gale’s hand in his own and shook it once before releasing it. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

Gale chuckled dryly. He looked down at his standard issue combat boots and fidgeted from one foot to the other. He then looked upwards in an almost wistful manner, before sighing and turning his attention back on his teammate. "Yeah, I just wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” 

Tadashi laughed. It was a light, harmonious sound that pulled softly at Hiro's heartstrings. Before he could stop himself, he felt the stirrings of a bashful smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “No kidding,” the elder Hamada said with a slight nod. 

Gale’s focused shifted from Tadashi to Hiro. He repeated his earlier gesture of offering his hand, which Hiro took, if only to be polite. “Hi, you must be Hiro, right? Beetee has talked non-stop about you.” 

Hiro released his hand and nodded. “I hope he’s said good things,” Hiro offered with as much good humor as his mood would allow. 

Gale actually laughed, which caught Hiro so completely off guard that if hadn't been so stiff he might have been forced to step back. “Just about how much of a genius you are, but I guess I’ll get to see that for myself tomorrow. Right now, I’m prepping for a field trip. I’ll see you both, tomorrow?” 

The Hamada brothers nodded. 

\\\\\

The field training/weapons construction and utilization room was nearly identical to the combat training area. The same four concrete walls, equal in size and dimension to their previously assigned room, surrounded the Hamada brothers. A table sat in the middle, which also had an array of weaponry on it, although each armament seemed far more advanced than what they had been given before. The space even had its own target practice area situated in the back, although it wasn’t anywhere near as intricate or large. The targets, Hiro noted, were foxed at the edges while a layer of black dust or soot covered them. 

The main difference was the workstations that lined the far walls. Engineering equipment suitable to build and dismantle technology was available at each one of the cubicles. At that moment, however, the workstations were devoid of all human life, except for the furthest left-corner station, where it appeared as though Beetee was working on something. Hiro stood on his tip toes and tried to peek around his mentor’s shoulders, but he still couldn’t quite see what exactly his project was. 

“Beetee?” Tadashi called out first, though it was hesitant. 

The older man stopped his movements and tossed his head back towards the pair. “Hello fellows,” he greeted with an unabashed smile. He used his weight to turn his wheelchair before making his way over to the weapons table. The two brothers followed his lead. 

“I hope you’re ready to have some fun today,” Beete said with a distinct glee in his voice, the same kind of glee he would use back in District 3 whenever he had discovered or invented something new he wanted to present to his protege. Hiro felt excitement electrify his chest and tingle down the outline of his silhouette. 

Beete reached over and picked up a throwing knife that was sitting near the edge of the table. He handed it to Hiro delicately. 

The younger man inspected the instrument in his hands. It looked like an ordinary kunai knife, for the exception of the three raised digits placed on the outside of the handle. They were each colored coded; red, yellow and black. 

“Each button releases a chemical compound which causes the knife to combust in a certain way on impact depending on which button you press,” Beetee explained. “Try the yellow button, please.” 

Hiro grinned. He stepped up from the table and to the training platform. His body readied itself into the same stance Tadashi had him practice for the last several weeks, one that allowed him the most movement and flexibility without limiting his throwing power. He pressed the yellow button just as he allowed the weapon to fly from his hands. It burst into a bright fireball a moment after it hit the bullseye. 

The three men whooped and hollered in a blatant display of destructive delight. 

\--- 

That evening, just as everyone began to eat their dinner, an announcement was made over the dining hall speakers. It was a simple command to all citizens of District 13 to make their way to the auditorium level after their meal, but it was enough to cause a muted stir. A quiet buzzing of conversation filled the air of the mess hall. Each table produced its own plethora of curious questions, which produced just as many different answers.  
Tadashi didn’t join in, even as his friends around him did. There was very little point in needless verbal speculation, at least from his part. He already had a suspicion that it had something to do with the Mockingjay or the other victors. 

His appetite for food, brought on by his earlier pyro-induced elation, was replaced with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He put his spoon down. His eyes glanced to his side. 

Hiro was staring ahead, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused. He didn’t respond or acknowledge the conversation around him. Instead, the line of his mouth firmed and the lines between his eyebrows deepened. 

Tadashi reached out and took the hand that was in Hiro’s lap into his own. The younger Hamada remained still briefly, but within a moment, Tadashi felt a strong squeeze around his fingers. Encouraged yet cautious, the elder brother haltingly shifted their hands until they lay side by side. He then moved the pads of his fingers until they rested in the indents between his baby brother’s closed fingers. He took care not to force his way in, but he didn’t need to. Hiro spread his fingers, allowing Tadashi to lace them together with his own. 

\---

The first propaganda film, or “propo” as it was known as, played on two large monitors situated on either side of the stage above the auditorium level. In the film, for all of District 13 to see, the Capitol was shown bombing a civilian hospital in District 8, in retaliation for their rebellion efforts. Katniss, in a rebel uniform complete with layers of body armor, stood at the entrance of the burning sanctuary. She screamed at the camera, vilifying the Capitol for their evil deeds, while pointing at the charred wreckage behind her. In a shaking voice, she declared to President Snow that, “If we burn, you burn with us!” 

Cheers and applause erupted from the crowds, deafening Hiro to any other external noise, yet his thoughts were loud and clear. This was what Tadashi would sacrifice his life for, these short, incredibly awful films that did nothing but show the carnage that the oppressive hand of their opposing leadership wrought. 

How were these supposed to be inspiring to the other districts? How were these supposed to rally the rebels when all they displayed is the firepower against them? 

Tadashi volunteered to give his life to strengthen the rebellion efforts, by helping to meet the Mockingjay's conditions, but it seemed as though he were given a death warrant just to allow Katniss to play actress. Hiro narrowed his eyes to dagger points and gritted his teeth behind his pursed lips. He fought against the urge to clench his fists, conscious of his brother’s hand still laced with him, and he refused to hurt him. 

Tadashi didn’t deserve pain, didn’t deserve death, didn’t deserve the station that he was in. Tadashi deserved glory for his sacrifice, he deserved to be recognized for his goodness, because the girl on fire was nothing compared to the boy who had burned.


	9. Scream My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fist fights, long nights, come home late  
> Can't sleep, I keep me awake  
> Flip through the lives on TV  
> I'll say, for now, I'm happy
> 
> Love it when I'm play-pretending  
> When I can take bullets to the heart  
> Fuckin' up my happy ending  
> But I can take bullets to the heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Finally, we get to the meaty parts of the story. Thanks to lipox24 and kiff44 for beta-ing my fic for me.

Unlike what he felt for the majority of the people he had met in District 13, Hiro was somewhat fond of Commander Boggs. He was the head of security for the district and leader of the volunteers being sent to retrieve the remaining victors from the Capitol. He was a tall, physically imposing man. His rich, deep baritone voice matched his body perfectly, but he hardly spoke above a whisper, not that he needed to. He commanded a certain level of authority with his rigid posture and no-nonsense stare without having to resort to using his words. However, while most of the other soldiers looked far too eager for conflict, Boggs took his position with just as much care as he did enthusiasm. Hiro respected that greatly. 

Despite his level of admiration, however, he couldn’t help but feel irritation heat his body like a flare after the man rejected his offer to volunteer for the rescue mission. Tadashi had been right; they wouldn’t let him join the group, both for his lack of soldiering credentials and because of his intellect. As Boggs had put it, "You're more of an asset as a scientist than a soldier, but don’t worry, the victors will be in good hands." 

Hiro was then forced to play spectator while Tadashi and the others, who were sitting around the middle table which was conspicuously devoid of weapons, were lectured on strategy. As Hiro tweaked the crossbow in his hands, Boggs drew diagrams on an electronic virtualboard, taking care to explain and label each detail of the designs mapped on the large interactive screen. The soldiers seemed enraptured by his lesson, but Hiro was simply thankful that he wasn’t forced to endure the commander’s dronings without having something else to do, otherwise he may have been courtmartialed for falling asleep on the job - if such a crime and subsequent punishment existed. 

When Boggs pointed to an example of what an interior wall in a Capitol building might look like, he explained that, “At this point, we’ll need a sharpshooter to come around this kind of corner to take out any peacekeepers that may be hiding in the rafters or on the top floors, this is where Gale comes in -” 

They needed a sharpshooter, huh? Hiro’s instinct ran faster than his brain. Without consideration of the consequences, Hiro cocked an arrow into the notch of his crossbow, used its laser pointer to aim at the leftmost target situated of the practice range, and pulled the trigger of his weapon. The arrow flew just outside of Boggs’ personal space, though it was still close enough to cause the man to stiffen visibly, before hitting the bullseye. 

Simultaneously, five heads turned around to stare at Hiro. Each face wore a different expression, ranging from scandalized to impressed. Gale made little effort to hide the grin that graced his lips, the brightness of which met his eyes. Tadashi’s own orbs were narrowed at his brother, but the corners of his lips were pulled in a small, but restrained smile. 

The younger Hamada grinned. “Crossbow works!” he announced, shaking the weapon in his hands slightly. 

Boggs’ expression remained neutral, but the air around him darkened. Hiro felt a cold shiver of fear run down his spine as the commander slowly stalked over to his workstation, as though he were a calculating predator and Hiro was his unassuming prey. Once he was at arm’s length, Boggs bent his knees until he was at eye level with the teenager. “I don’t take kindly to people endangering me or my men,” he said ominously, his statement a hardly veiled warning. 

Hiro gulped around the lump that crawled into his throat. He nodded, but his mouth disagreed and ran away from him. Before his brain could cut off its connection to his lips, he coughed out, “You guys were never in danger.” 

Boggs tilted his head. His gaze softened minutely, but the firm seem of his lips tightened even further. His shoulders rolled back just a fraction while the hands that rested over his muscular thighs clenched. “You aimed offly close, son. How could you be so sure?” he nearly growled. 

“Because I have eyes,” Hiro scoffed before biting his bottom lip. It was already too late. Regret washed over his being, and it was left frozen by the cold grip of terror around his heart. What had he done? 

Boggs snorted once through his nose. He straightened his knees and turned back towards his students. The man then raised his lower arm and curled his fingers to beckon Hiro to come along with him. 

The younger Hamada glanced towards Beetee, who looked back at him as though he had just been reaped for the games. Without a word, Hiro silently made his goodbyes to his mentor and used his trembling legs to lumber over to where Boggs led him: the center of the target practice station. 

Boggs made a slow half-pivot to face his fellow volunteers. Hiro mirrored his actions. 

“Anyone who can score more points than Hiro Hamada during target practice will be our designated sharpshooter. I’d like to thank Hiro for volunteering for this exercise,” Boggs announced. There was very little room to negotiate over the orders. 

Hiro gave his audience a half-hearted grin, accompanied by a nervous chuckle. He waved. The others did not return his gestures, but they did offer him clownish smirks that matched well with the competitive sparkle in their eyes. That was, for the exception of Tadashi. His elder brother, at that point, seemed far more malicious than Boggs. Hiro swallowed audibly. 

The first to volunteer was a petite brunette woman, who had a swagger to her step as she sauntered over to the practice range. She stepped up right next to Hiro. He watched as she took her pistol from her sidearm holster with careful precision. She turned off the safety and cocked the weapon, smiling at the younger lad all the while. The woman took her stance, feet apart at shoulder width, and placed both of her hands on the handle of the weapon. She let out five neat, nearly silent shots towards the center target: one hit the bullseye, two hit the outside rim, one hit the outermost ring, and the last shot hit the area outside of the target’s space. 

After turning the gun’s safety back on, she placed her weapon back in its holster and made her way back to her seat without a single word. 

“Do you need to borrow a gun, Hiro?” Boggs asked with something akin to mirth in his voice. 

Hiro turned. He cocked an eyebrow at the man. “Not really much of a gun person.” 

Boggs raised his chin. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What kind of person are you?” 

Hiro smirked. 

\---

Tadashi watched silently, with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs locked tightly over one another, as Hiro bested three out of his four other teammates at their assigned exercise. Hiro was allowed to use his knives, much to the chagrin of his opponents. In spite of the volunteers’ small protests, Boggs wanted his men to beat the young scientist at his own game, and they couldn’t truly do that unless they all used their best weapons. His reasoning for his decision making was sound; the Capitol would not be pulling punches, so their training shouldn’t either. 

Each one of them used their favorite long-ranged instrument, and one had even tried to use their own set of throwing knives, but it was to no avail. Hiro continuously scored hundreds of points higher than the rest of the team. 

“So, if no one can beat me, does that mean I get to be the sharpshooter?” Hiro asked cheekily after his third defeated opponent walked back to his seat at the table. Thought his tone was light, Tadashi heard the undercurrent of his actual intent run through his words. He felt himself stiffen uncomfortable. 

“No,” Boggs replied steadily. “But, if you can best the entire squad, then I will recommend that you be put on an accelerated program so that you may pass your military exam that much quicker.” 

Tadashi’s chest constricted tightly. The grip on his upper arms became painful. His raised foot danced awkwardly in the air. The thought of Hiro being a soldier, volunteering to go on missions and actively participating in the more violent aspects of the rebellion, rested within his stomach like a lead weight. 

Gale, who sat back and watched the spectacle before him casually, glanced at Tadashi. “You wanna try the kid next?” 

Without sparing a look at his teammate, Tadashi shook his head. “I’m alright. We’ll see how good you do.” 

Gale nodded wordlessly and stood from his chair. He made quick, efficient strides to the practice area. Just as the man unlatched his military-grade crossbow from where it hung on his hip, his gaze flitted over to Hiro. The shorter man glanced back up at him with something like complacency in his eyes. 

“No hard feelings after this, alright?” Gale agreed through a crooked smile. 

Hiro’s eyes and mouth widened comically, though the corners of his expression crinkled cheerfully upwards. He theatrically stepped back from the former District 12 citizen. “Thems fightin’ words,” Hiro chortled. Tadashi had to refrain from snorting. 

Gale smirked. He produced a bolt from the quiver attached to the stem of the weapon and notched it in place. Once his arrow was secure, he rested the weapon against his shoulder. He cocked his head and bent his neck to look down the sight of his crossbow. After a brief moment of steadying both his hand and his breathing, he pulled the trigger. The arrow hit the bullseye of the centermost target.

Hiro nodded. He pursed his lips.“Not bad,” he commended. 

The elder Hamada agreed. It wasn’t bad at all, but then again, the boy was big, strong and healthy, especially for someone from one of the poorest districts in Panem. It wouldn’t surprise Tadashi that his remarkable ability to shoot a crossbow accurately stemmed from a once-daily practice of hunting for his meal. His marksmanship may have been the difference between his family eating and going hungry. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Gale promised. He repeated the process several more times until each target had an arrow sticking out from its bullseye. 

Hiro turned his head and raised an eyebrow at the man next to him. “So, I guess it’s going to be a draw?” 

Gale laughed. “Guess again, look at the targets.” 

Tadashi examined the field with a careful eye. After a moment, he noticed it. The arrows were set in haphazard positions, angled in such a way as to make it nearly impossible for someone to properly aim anything bigger than an arrow at the red circle. 

Hiro whistled. “Wow, brains and brawn. Good for you, although you probably didn’t count on me being better than that,” he said with a friendly, but combative, edge. 

Hiro cracked his knuckles. He reached into his side pouch and produced four throwing knives. Hiro then situated himself in his usual stance. With an exaggerated flick of the wrist, he threw his weapon. 

For all of Hiro’s skill, Tadashi was genuinely surprised when his flamboyant maneuver actually worked. Even just a few weeks ago, Hiro would have probably completely missed his mark if he had tried the same trick. Yet, his knife was precariously embedded underneath the arrow of the centermost target. Hiro reproduced the same results several more times until all of his knives rested parallel to Gale’s arrows. 

It was Gale’s turn to whistle. “Geez, Hiro,” he tsked. “I would hate to be on the receiving end of your bad side.” 

Hiro’s expression darkened. His brow lowered over his eyes, casting shadows upon his face. His lips twisted into a cold frown. “Bring Urban back in one piece, and you’ll never have to find out what that’s like,” he promised with a sinister growl. 

Gale's features tightened, but before the other man could respond, Boggs slowly clapped his hands. The two rebels turned to see the head of security leaning against the right corner of the table. 

“Nice work, Hawthorne.” Boggs praised. “You too, Hamada.” 

"Thank you, sir," they responded in unison. 

Boggs threw his head back to eye Tadashi. "Alright Urban, you're up." 

Tadashi felt a strange sort of dread creep from his lungs and spread to his bones. He was also loath to assign himself the sharpshooter for the mission. The position was by far the most dangerous, as those individuals were usually the first to be targeted and killed. Regardless, he would do anything in his power to prevent Hiro from befalling such a fate, and if that meant taking his place, so be it. 

Tadashi pushed himself from his seat and made his way over to the target practice station. Once situated across from the centermost target, he unlatched the rifle that was nestled in the holster resting against his back. He pulled the gun over his head and rested the butt of the weapon against the meaty flesh of his shoulder. He looked down the sight of his rifle with his left eye, taking stock of each of his targets. Once satisfied that he knew the layout of his playing field, Tadashi released the safety.

"Really, Urban?" he heard Hiro question next to him. "You insult me! You don’t think you can beat me without your best weapon, do you?" 

Tadashi pulled the trigger with an exhale of his breath. One, two, three, four, five, six shots rang out in quick succession. Each hit their mark, leaving a smoldering hole where the bullets had torn through the paper cleanly. 

Tadashi locked the safety of the gun back in place and dropped his arms, allowing the side of his rifle to rest against his pelvis. He faced his little brother. "You were sayin’?" He asked playfully. 

Hiro's mouth hung open comically wide. Tadashi felt a bubble of laughter erupt from his throat.

"I-I didn't know you could use a rifle," his little brother finally stammered out after several moments of gaping at him. 

Tadashi felt triumph sing wonderfully through his veins; it wasn’t very often that he could render his brother nearly speechless with his skills. He leered at his little brother, and punctuated his smug smile with a wink for good measure. "Lots of things you don't know about me," he said huskily as he walked around his brother’s back. "Though you're more than welcome to figure them out." He bumped his hip against Hiro's.

The table behind them erupted with encouraging hoots and hollers. Hiro's face turned a bright shade of crimson. The boy narrowed his blazing eyes at Tadashi. His lips twisted themselves into a grimace. 

Tadashi laughed that much harder. 

"Figure them out with my knife," Hiro grumbled under his breath. 

The younger boy readied himself into a throwing stance. He pulled the last of his remaining knives from his side pouch. He threw his weapons awkwardly; his legs and shoulders were far too tense for his arm to effectively make the proper arching motion required for precision. Tadashi had to fight against the urge to assist Hiro by telling him to loosen up. No, no, this was exactly what he had wanted. Though flustering the boy hadn’t been his original intent, this was exactly what he needed. 

Tadashi didn’t need to look at the targets to know that Hiro missed the bullseye on each and every one of them. While he had hit the board, each knife protruded from the ring outside of the solid red circle. The instruments almost seemed to be mocking the boy with how close they were to his intended mark. 

“Way to go, Urban!” someone called out from the table. 

He didn’t acknowledge the unfamiliar voice. Instead, his softened gaze fell onto his little brother, who looked dejectedly at the practice area. 

“Hiro,” Tadashi began softly as he reached out a comforting hand towards his brother’s shoulder. 

Hiro brushed off the affection with a roll of his arm. “Yeah, way to go, Urban,” he muttered sharply enough to sting. 

The young rebel, with his head bowed and shoulders slumped, walked out of the training room. Tadashi felt his stomach drop. 

\---

Hiro intellectually knew it wasn’t fair to Tadashi to be angry with him, but his wounded heart cared very little for what was right and what was wrong. All it knew was that Tadashi had blatantly flirted with him, in front of all of his peers, and allowed it to hope for a millisecond that his teasing had true intentions behind it. Not only was he humiliated in front of “Urban’s” squad, but Tadashi forced him to face the feelings he would rather never acknowledge. 

Not that Tadashi knew, of course. For all of Tadashi’s “soft skills”, he was oblivious to the effect he had on people, especially his little brother. Usually, it worked out to his advantage. Hiro could sneak peaks and fantasize as much as he wanted without worrying that his older brother would catch on to his strange, romantic inclinations towards him. 

Although Hiro wanted, desperately wanted, for his infernal crush to finally die down so he could go back to loving Tadashi as he should, something within his heart told him that such a feat would be impossible. Too much time had put too much distance between them. While the nostalgic notions of their childhood relationship were still there, Hiro would forever be doomed to admire Tadashi in all of the ways he ought not to. 

Hiro sighed harshly under his breath. He sharply turned to the nearest wall and kicked the cement face with the bottom of his combat boot. The action was cathartic, if slightly painful. 

“Hiro!” he heard Tadashi shout from down the hall. 

Hiro didn’t look. He couldn’t look, not unless he wanted to feel the hot flames of his shame lick at his chest and stomach. He focused his eyes on a tiny, dark speck on the wall. 

The heavy clapping of footsteps cascaded down ever louder towards him, until they stopped just outside of his personal space. Hiro felt Tadashi's presence like a physical brush over his neck and sides. He had a primal urge to turn and face him, but he refused, as though giving into that desire somehow allowed Tadashi to win some unspoken game they were playing. 

"Hiro, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Tadashi almost pleaded. 

Hiro knew that what he said was true. There had been no malicious intent behind his actions. Hiro doubted that Tadashi even had the capability for such a thing. With some effort, he pushed passed the childish part of himself that wanted to continue to stay mad at his older brother as a way to deflect what he didn’t want to feel, and acknowledged the terrible truth that, no matter how awful it made him, he was in love with a man facing his imminent execution. He didn’t have the time to be immature. 

He slid his feet to the right and faced his brother. Tadashi wore the face of a desperate man, one that begged for forgiveness, though he couldn’t possibly have any understanding of what he had done wrong. Something ached deep inside his chest. Hiro swallowed. 

“It’s okay,” he replied hoarsely. “I just don’t like losing is all. Sorry.” 

Tadashi’s eyes eased. His lips curled lazily into a warm smile. He reached out and took Hiro into his gentle embrace. “Everything's fine, don’t worry about it, little brother.” 

\---

Dinner was a cheerful affair. Tadashi and Hiro made jokes towards one another as they regaled the rest of the nerd crew with the details of what had occurred during their particular combat training. Although Tadashi was reluctant to admit that Hiro’s shot with a crossbow had amused him, he did give his younger brother credit for his ability to shoot as far and as accurately as he had. The nerd crew also seemed rather impressed, but their reactions were dulled by weariness. 

According to Wasabi, their training was much more intense than what they had initially anticipated. With high-pitched whines and complaints, he explained that their two hour session was a complete disaster. They were ill-prepared to complete the exercises District 13’s soldiers had already mastered. By the end, they were run ragged by their training and demoralized by their commanding officer’s harsh words in regards to their failures. 

Even GoGo, with all of her earlier bravado, complained that their training seemed useless. She loudly questioned how their particular exercises helped train them for actual combat. 

Fred tried his best to stay positive. He provided his friends with the imagery of combat through his rousing words. He promised gore and glory to the rest of the group, as long as they could get through the next few weeks of training. Tadashi appreciated the optimism, though he could have gone without the bardish tales of blood and woe.

Honey-Lemon gave the group a strained smiled, but nodded along, agreeing silently with her friends. 

Tadashi glanced back at his brother, whose owlish eyes darted from friend to friend above where his hand covered the other half of his face. To the casual observer, Hiro’s expression seemed neutral, but Tadashi could practically see the calculations that were being run through the genius’ brain. Tadashi felt something that bordered on curiosity and dread, but made no mention of it. He was sure that he would find out in due time. 

After their meal, the Hamada brothers bid their friends a pleasant night and headed to their room. Hiro offered Tadashi the first shower, but the elder brother insisted that his brother take the lead. 

Hiro had stiffened unnaturally at the suggestion. His cheeks flushed and his eyes darted everywhere but to Tadashi’s face. It was peculiar, to say the least, but before Tadashi could question whether or not his sibling was alright, Hiro practically threw open their drawer, hurriedly gathered his clothes and raced into the bathroom with a small squeak of “thanks!” trailing behind him. 

Tadashi snorted. After a small internal debate with himself, he decided not worry too much about the behavior. It was either something as minor as a desire for some “alone time”, or a need for him to use the restroom. Instead, he turned on the television and waited for his chance to use the shower. 

He didn’t have to wait long. After what seemed like only a few minutes, Hiro emerged from a plume of steam that materialized the moment he opened the door. He gave his brother a small smile before lying down on his side of the bed. 

Just as Tadashi gathered his own supplies, the TV announced a special broadcast. As though it weaved a magic spell, Tadashi stood transfixed in front of the television set as Peeta’s image materialized before him. His ghostly pale, gaunt face affected him like a punch to the diaphragm, forcing the wind out of his lungs in the form of a horrified gasp. 

Hiro edged down the bed until his legs dangled over the bottom edge. Tadashi’s gaze flitted down briefly to see that his brother’s expression matched his own. A strange sort of relief loosened the rigidness between his shoulders; knowing that Hiro’s jadedness hadn’t worn down all of his empathy gave him hope that he would one day understand what was truly at stake with their rebellion. He wanted Hiro to see that it wasn’t just about them, about getting revenge, about dismantling the system for the sake of destruction; it was about birthing a better system, one where boys like Peeta didn’t have to live in fear of being tortured for the simple act of surviving. 

Tadashi gritted his teeth. He continued watching in despair as he wondered how the blonde boy had deteriorated so far, so quickly. The collar of his flamboyant suit was already so small, not much larger than the circumference of his wrist, but it still hung loose around his neck. His eyes were hollow, and shadows clung onto them. His lips were cracked beneath the loose makeup upon them. Tadashi feared the worst. 

The main topic of Peeta’s interview was Katniss’ involvement in the recent propaganda that was playing throughout the districts, thanks to Beetee’s hacking of their media waves. Peeta assured the Capitol, and the rest of Panem, that Katniss was not a rebel, that she was being used by District 13 as a megaphone to spout their ridiculous, anti-establishment notions. Katniss had no idea what she was doing, and that all she was trying to do was survive, he said. Tadashi wondered if Peeta realized he spoke about himself, about how the Capitol was controlling him to quell the district’s efforts for independence, but by the vacant look on his face, Tadashi doubted that Peeta knew much more than what was being fed to him.

“Turn it off,” Hiro croaked next to him. 

Tadashi obeyed. 

\---

The next day, to both Hiro’s dread and astonishment, his schedule instructed him to meet with Boggs in the war room prior to attending field testing with Tadashi. At first, Hiro assumed that he was being punished for the previous day’s crossbow stunt, but was pleasantly surprised when he was handed documents pertaining to proper military procedures and strategies to prepare him for the exam that would be proctored in three weeks time. 

Gratitude like he had never felt before rained over him, and it nearly pushed the boy to hug the man before him. Fortunately, his logic kicked in just at the right moment, reminding him of the potential ramifications of uninitiated physical contact with the head of District 13’s military. 

“That’s not all,” Boggs announced with a serious tone. “President Coin wanted to speak with you personally about your microbots, but unfortunately she has prior engagements. Although she would have preferred drones -” Hiro felt himself prickle at the statement, and he was forced to bite his lip to contain the argument that his microbots were better than drones. “- she has agreed to allow them to go to beta testing. You will be overseeing the project with Beetee Latier and Robert Callaghan, though you will most likely be working primarily on your own as both men have their own assigned projects.”

Hiro nodded. “That’s fine.” 

Boggs didn’t seem to care or register Hiro’s approval. Instead, he continued on in the same dreadfully deadpan tone, “Your keycard is going to give you access to your office again. You are being assigned back to the robotics lab.” 

Hiro swallowed. He looked down at the smooth skin of his wrist where it read that he would be on the field with Tadashi. Something small, but hollow, made its way to his stomach. “So, I won’t be working on Urban’s project anymore.” 

“Your current orders still stand, but starting tomorrow, you will be expected to report to your office during work hours.” 

Hiro nodded once more. 

\---

Tadashi couldn’t help but feel the slightest smidge of disappointment when Hiro informed him of his new orders during field testing. Working with Hiro had been the most fun he had had in years, and he couldn’t deny that watching Hiro tinker away next to him sent a pleasant fluttering to his heart and tummy. However, he could shake off his negative feelings with a smile and find happiness in the fact that Hiro was finally being acknowledged for his talent. 

What he couldn’t face, what had knotted the space between his eyebrows, flushed his face, and caused him to whip around and nearly scream, “what?” was Hiro’s announcement of his accelerated training. He was allowd to borrow the materials to study on his own, which was not a luxury afforded to many of the district’s citizens, but they were impressed with his aptitude for combat and weapons skills.

Tadashi gulped passed the lump in his throat audibly. This was not how this was supposed to go! Tadashi internally screamed. Hiro was supposed to be safe in District 13. He was supposed to be a scientist. He was supposed to be happy and healthy. He wasn’t meant to take orders for the rebellion and spill blood on his hands. 

“Tadashi? Are you okay?” Hiro asked as he placed a hand on his quaking shoulder. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

Tadashi felt a cold sweat break out over his forehead. He took a couple of steps backwards until his butt hit the medical console. He used the counter for balance as his knees wobbled beneath him, threatening to pull him down onto the ground. He felt dizzy; his stomach churned wildly. 

"No," Tadashi whispered beneath his breath. 

"What?" Hiro asked as he slowly approached his elder brother, one step over the other, with his arms out in front of him. His fingertips made only the slightest bit of contact with the fabric covering his chest, but it jolted the other man. 

Tadashi took Hiro's upper arms and pulled the boy none too gently into his tight embrace. He buried his face into the crook of the younger boy’s shoulder. "Please," he begged against him. "You don't have to do this. Please don't do this." 

"Tadashi, I don't get it. You said you'd let me help you," Hiro said softly in his ear, but his frustrated bemusement was still evident.

"Not like this," Tadashi replied desperately. "Hiro, please, don't do this, for me, okay? I can't stand the idea of you being out there and risking your life-"

"Wait!" Hiro nearly shouted. He pushed at his elder brother's shoulders and stepped away from his hold. "What about you? You don't think I worry about you? Why do you even think I'm doing this in the first place?" 

"Hiro, I don't have a choice," Tadashi explained through harsh, hurried breaths. "I wasn't recruited, like you, I have to obey their orders in exchange for me and my friends having a home here, in exchange for you-" 

"Me? What-"

Tadashi chuckled humorlessly. "Plutarch is a master manipulator. He's the one pulling all the strings, and he knows you're my brother." 

Horrified recognition contorted Hiro's expression, before his blazing eyes narrowed and his teeth bared themselves in a snarl. In a harsh whisper, he said, "I knew these people were no better than the Capitol -" 

"They don't send their children to slaughter each other," Tadashi pointed out with almost complete detachment. It was a matter of fact. Even so, the words felt empty as they spilled from his lips. 

"How long will it take before they start to do that, too?" Hiro hissed. "They use fear to control you, just like the Capitol did." 

Tadashi wiped his hand over his face as defeat settled over his shoulders and in the spaces between his ribs. He felt hot tears sting the corners of his eyes, but he fought against them. He blinked back his hopelessness and resignation. He stared hard at his brother in an attempt to will him to understand. "Please, Hiro. The only thing that matters to me is that you're safe." 

Hiro's stony expression turned pliable. His eyebrows knitted themselves tightly over his shimmering eyes. With a sharp exhale of breath, he said, "And the only thing that matters to me is you, okay? 

Tadashi smiled. 

///

A few days into their infiltration training, both Boggs and Gale were called away on another mission, leaving the rest of the volunteers to train on their own. While most of them used their time to practice their marksmanship, Tadashi sat by Beetee's workstation and watched him collaborate a communicator cuff by connecting it to his computer and making adjustments as necessary with long spans of keystrokes over his keyboard.

Beetee excitedly explained that the beta version of Hiro’s microbot software would be tested with the commlink as soon as it was ready, even before Tadashi prompted for an answer. In preparation, Beetee was tasked with ensuring that the communication device would be compatible with Hiro’s code. A small portion of the script had already been sent to the scientist, and it was up to him to make sure that the communicator cuff was able to interpret the new library of commands. 

Tadashi smiled brightly as his eyes traced the programming lovingly. As usual, Hiro’s coding was not only brilliant, but neat and flawless, easily understood by anyone who knew the language. Somehow, the rows upon rows of characters were endearing to him. He felt as though he were taking a private peek inside his little brother’s brilliant mind, and what he found was breathtakingly beautiful. 

“You should tell him how you feel,” Beetee said quietly.

Tadashi gaped at the older scientist. His cheeks flushed warmly. He tried to reach for some sort of explanation or denial, but his mind came up with a blank. Regardless, he knew that any sort of affirmation against the other man’s assumptions would fall on deaf ears, if Beetee’s knowing grin had any indication. 

\---

That night, after taking their customary showers, a special broadcast was advertised on the television. Tadashi and Hiro situated themselves at the end of their bed, in front of the television screen. A semblance of foreboding stiffened Hiro’s body, reminding him that this could be it, this could be the broadcast that called Tadashi to arms, but his anxiety was soothed by Tadashi’s fingers interlocking with his own. Hiro tightened his hold on his older brother’s hand as the Capitol’s seal displayed itself before them. 

As with the last broadcast, Peeta’s withered face was predominantly featured once the sign card faded away. If it were possible, he looked even more worse for wear. Any fat that had previously clung to his body was gone, leaving the man a skeleton wrapped in skin. 

With weary words, he listed the damage that had been done to Panem due to the rebellion. Just as he was in the middle of describing the mayhem that had occurred as a result of a fire, the image of Katniss Everdeen flickered through on the television set. 

She stood upon the rubble of what was once a building. A morbid song sung in her voice filtered through as she walked among what was left of her district. 

Are you, are you coming to the tree?

Peeta's image fought its way back to the screen, warbling through heavy static until it set itself on the screen for several seconds. "Katniss?" He whispered, calling out to her like a lost child calling out to its mother. 

The signal was jammed again, allowing the television to show the girl on fire walking down what appeared to be the main road leading in and out of her district. All along the path, charred and decrepit bodies lay before her. Each one had an agonized expression etched permanently onto its face. Hiro covered his gaping mouth with his hand. 

Coming to the tree?  
They strung up a man  
They say who murdered three.

Static snowed upon the screen. Then, Peeta’s face appeared once again."Katniss… how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. You...in District 13...will be dead by morning!" Peeta nearly shouted at the audience.

Tadashi jumped in his seat next to him while Hiro’s jaw dropped even further into his palm. Hiro’s eyes detached themselves from what he had just seen to his trembling older brother. Tadashi’s eyes were filled with a jittery panic as they roamed over the screen, watching with a helpless awe as it displayed a struggling Peeta being dragged away by two peacekeepers. Without looking down at Hiro, he reached out and took his shoulder in an almost painfully tight grip. “T-that’s a warning,” he whispered so softly that the younger sibling had to strain to hear him.

No sooner had Hiro opened his mouth to question Tadashi's statement had alarms blared to life in their room, signalling with a shrill insistence that an air drill was commencing. The elder sibling leapt out of their bed with a quick bounce. He didn’t wait for Hiro to do the same, and instead, pulled his brother off of their mattress by his arm.

With rough, jerky motions, he maneuvered Hiro until they were face to face. Tadashi leaned forward until he was close enough for his hot breath to reach Hiro’s nose. He set his hard stare on his his younger brother’s face. The gravity of his amber orbs pulled and retained his undivided attention.

"Stay close to me, okay?" Tadashi commanded with harsh breaths. He took Hiro's hand in his own and interlaced their fingers once more. "Don't let go of my hand."

Hiro was compelled to nod. He had no intention of going anywhere without his brother.

They raced out of their room and gathered with the swarm of people already heading to the emergency stairwell that was located down the far end of their hallway. Just as they entered the confined space, a loud, rumbling sound cracked like thunder from overhead. The metal beneath their feet quaked. Screams filled the hollow space as it was abruptly encased in total darkness. Collectively, the masses dropped to their knees, holding onto the railings or to the people close by as their balance was thrown. Hiro held fast to his brother, who entrapped him tightly between the edge of the railing and his chest.

Like rain, water fell in the form of a downpour from the newly formed cracks in the ceiling, drenching them in cold water. It froze Hiro where it clung to his clothing and hair. He shivered against his elder brother, who shook in turn. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders in response to the fear that bloomed from his chest and spread to his shivering extremities. 

Slowly, the small emergency lights that were strung up against the walls flickered on, illuminating their pathway in a soft, orange glow, providing just enough light to guide their way down. 

“Come on!” Tadashi shouted, though his voice was muffled by the cacophony all around them. Suddenly, a steady stream of “bang”’s were heard from above. The two brothers looked up. Hiro blinked passed the water that clung to his eyelashes in time to see a herd of citizens stampede downward in a panicked frenzy. Just before they were trampled, Tadashi lifted Hiro by the underside of his arm and pulled him along.

They didn’t get far. Every other moment, they were stopped by another tremor beneath them. Each time, Hiro and Tadashi would drop to their knees in an effort to not fall forward, clinging onto each other for support and safety. They would then get up and go forward just a few more feet before they repeated the same cycle over and over. After what seemed like an eternal struggle to reach the bottom floor, they raced passed the steel-enforced gates to the underground bunker. 

The bunker was large enough to accommodate all of District 13’s citizens at one time. Each row of bunk beds were preassigned by floor number and compartment of a citizen’s home unit, which was clearly marked in yellow paint beneath their feet. They proceeded to their designated space, still holding onto each other without any intention of letting go. 

They both plopped down on the bottom bed. For a moment, all was well until another violent quake shook the foundation above them. A loud roar erupted in its wake.

Tadashi let out a strangled whimper. He shivered and curled into himself against Hiro's embrace. The older sibling released Hiro's waist in order to curl his fingers over his ears. He hummed and whimpered against the discord, though there was no hope of drowning out the screams and thunder all around him. 

Hiro was taken back to their younger years. There was never a time in Hiro's life when thunderstorms or loud noises failed to bring his older brother to tears before he curled into a fetal position in a closet or underneath their blankets. Aunt Cass had explained that the trauma stemmed from the industrial accident that took their parents, which had been loud enough to echo through the halls of Tadashi’s school. Hiro had been too young to be affected by the event, but his brother would never forget the sound of his parents dying while he was helpless in his chair. 

The only cure for Tadashi’s quirk was Hiro’s soft singing. It didn’t matter what Hiro sung: songs of old, nonsense songs, silly rhymes, even the alphabet. When Hiro was done, Tadashi would be released from his trance. 

Hiro, reacting more on impulse than thought, pulled Tadashi’s hands away from his ears. The older man whimpered in response, and buried his head further into Hiro’s chest. The younger boy curled forward and placed his lips against the shell of Tadashi’s ear. 

“I crave subjugation~” he sang intuitively. “I finally found my guide~” 

Tadashi relaxed into a dead weight in his arms. 

“Caught somewhere between where listlessness and fire reside~” Hiro smoothed a hand over Tadashi’s soaked locks. “So tell me all your secrets, reveal all your lies~” 

Tadashi rubbed his nose against Hiro’s sternum and mumbled something incoherent against him. Hiro paused his song to ask what his brother had said, but just as his lips moved to form the question, another rumble formed above them. Tadashi cried out and wrapped his arms tightly around his back. 

"Blurring the line separating what we see and what we hide~” Hiro continued on, punctuating the last word with a kiss against the soft flesh of his ear. “Now only your force is moving my feet, pulling me on with you restlessly. All I feel's at home, skin and bone.” 

Tadashi tilted his head upward. He placed small, shallow kisses against the underside of Hiro's chin. The endearing affection caused a bubble of laughter to burst from him. "Do I run with the ghost I see? Integrate another side of me? To align my soul, arriving whole." 

Tadashi cooed softly against him. Hiro felt him melt in his arms, and although the Capitol's bombs continued to bombard the skies above, his elder brother remained boneless in his embrace. They were safe in their own little world, for the time being.


	10. Lover is Childlike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet me down by the whale watch  
> Meet me down by the sea  
> Meet me down at Coney Island  
> We'll go out on the sea  
> She don't ask me no questions  
> 'Cause I don't cry no wolf  
> By the ruins of the ferris wheel  
> See her down in the surf  
> You might think she's Christ-like  
> But my lover is childlike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, so sorry for the lateness of this update. Lots of crazy stuff happening in my life right now, but I promise to be better about updating from now on! Thanks to lipox24 and kiff44 for beta-ing!

The constant barrage of booming echoes didn’t stop until the early hours of the next morning. District 13’s citizens had all survived, a little worn by the long hours of bone rattling quakes, but still very much alive. Over the course of several hours, screaming dissolved into quiet murmurings that filled the air softly with a steady hum: parents consoling their children, lovers speaking of future plans, adolescents gossiping about their newest infatuations. Meanwhile, Hiro and Tadashi lay side by side in their small bed. 

They took turns mending one another's frazzled nerves with small physical gestures. Tadashi was fond of smoothing Hiro’s bangs out of his eyes while Hiro was much more apt to feeling the stubble over his elder brother’s prominent jaw line with the pads of his fingertips. They remained silent, with the exception of the occasional question, and subsequent affirmation of, whether or not the other was okay. 

Slowly, but surely, Hiro’s ministrations drained Tadashi of his adrenaline, allowing him to drift between the planes of consciousness and unconsciousness - until Fred, like the rising sun, slowly peaked over the horizon of Hiro’s shoulder. 

A new surge of adrenaline coursed through Tadashi with the speed and force of a Capitol train. He gasped as his entire being tensed from the sudden shock. His body folded itself into a sitting position so quickly that he nearly collided with the metal frame of the bunk bed above him. 

Hiro quirked an eyebrow at Tadashi briefly. He rolled his shoulder back and tossed his head to the side to see their kneeling blonde friend grinning at the two. Fred wore the expression of someone who had found a hidden treasure trove. 

Tadashi felt his eyebrows rise and his lips slant in response. 

“Hope we weren’t interrupting anything,” Fred chuckled darkly, amusement dripping obnoxiously from every word.

Tadashi’s confusion melted into realization, which then solidified into a hot ball of mortification which travelled down to his stomach. 

As if on cue, the rest of the nerd crew rounded the corner and flooded the space between them and their neighbor’s designated areas. 

GoGo gave the pair a knowing smirk, successfully stoking the flames of Tadashi’s humiliation. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh? Did we miss something?” she asked with a nonchalant tone, sharply contrasting the dangerous delight written on the planes of her features. 

“Please, please, tell me we missed something,” Honey-Lemon nearly pleaded. She clapped her hands excitedly while bouncing up and down on her toes. The grin on her face was almost too hopeful to break with a denial, but Tadashi couldn’t allow them to further shame him in front of Hiro. 

Tadashi opened his mouth to protest, albeit in a light-hearted manner, but Wasabi beat him to the punch. “Come on guys, leave them alone,” he scolded lightly. 

None of them had the decency to respond to the playful admonishment with some sort of admission of guilt or apology. Rather, they just giggled amongst each other like gossiping schoolchildren

Hiro shifted into a kneeling position on their bed.“What are you guys doing here?” he asked, punctuating his question with a quiet yawn. 

“We just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Honey replied gently. “Considering that Urban - well.” She cut herself off by worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her questioning eyes directed themselves toward the elder Hamada. 

Tadashi didn't need to ask to know that she was silently asking for his permission to reveal his not-so-secret. He chuckled, though whether he did so to ease Honey's anxiety or because he found humor in the absurdity of the situation, he was not quite sure.

"It's okay" he said pleasantly. "He already knows." Tadashi placed a hand on Hiro's head and ruffled his long bangs. “He took care of me.” 

Hiro giggled a disapproving “hey!” in response to the manhandling. He gently pushed Tadashi’s appendage away from him. Instead of feeling perturbed by the rebuff, the elder sibling felt his heart warm. He grinned amicably at his little brother. 

“Wow, took care of you, huh?" GoGo snorted. "What did he do exactly?" 

The entire crew's faces flared brightly. Honey put her delicate fingers over her lips. Wasabi's eyes widened comically. Fred snickered against his knuckles. 

"Get your minds out if the gutter," Hiro commanded through a crooked sneer. "I just sang to him, is all. My brother has - had - a fear of loud noises. It’s what I used to do for him." 

The air around the group shifted. A blanket of cold solemness descended over their shoulders. Everyone visibly hunched, including Hiro. His downcast eyes settled themselves over the folded hands in his lap. 

Despite their friend's scrutinizing presence, Tadashi didn’t fight against the impulse to take one of Hiro’s hands into his own. He interlaced their fingers together and, with his thumb, rubbed soothing circles into the meat below Hiro's index finger. Hiro turned his head and looked up at his brother with such a comforting expression that Tadashi, for the first time in nearly four years, felt like he was truly at home. 

“I didn’t know you could sing, Hiro,” Honey-Lemon said joyfully, but with an unnatural downward lilt to her voice. “What don’t you sing us a song?” 

Hiro turned his head back towards his friends. His owlish eyes flickered between the four faces staring expectantly at him. “A song?” he asked with a high pitched warble. Everyone nodded simultaneously. Hiro shrugged his shoulder. "What do you want to hear?" 

"Anything," Honey supplied.

"Alright," Hiro affirmed. He took a deep breath and exhaled it. He pursed his lips together. A deep hum rumbled from his throat, creating a pleasant, but sad melody. 

He closed his eyes, opened his lips, and sang softly:

"If this is to end in fire,   
then we should all burn together.  
Watch the flames climb high,  
Into the night. 

Calling out Father Oh,   
Stand by and we will  
Watch the flames burn auburn   
on the mountainside   
Desolation comes upon the sky. 

Now I see fire  
Inside the mountain  
I see fire  
Hollowing souls  
I see fire  
Blood in the breeze  
And I hope that you remember me ~” 

Tadashi felt something twist painfully inside of him, constricting his chest. He found himself fighting for every breath as he drowned in the sorrow that soaked Hiro’s lyrics. He felt his eyes become wet from emotions he couldn't place, let alone name. 

Hiro’s anguish had never been plainer than in that quiet moment after his ballad ended. It was etched in the hard lines around his lips, under his eyes and between his furrowed eyebrows. His amber orbs reflected the bright orange emergency lights that flickered around them. 

“Hiro, that was -” Gogo began hesitantly, but stopped herself when Hiro turned his head away. 

“I-I’m sorry, I was thinking of my brother and-” Hiro explained with a harsh, ragged whisper. “I-I’m - sorry, it was the only thing I could think of. It just sort of came out.” 

Tadashi squeezed the fingers locked with his own in a desperate, but vain, attempt to comfort his little brother. Hiro's lips curled into a smile that didn't quite match with the rest of his expression. 

Silently, Gogo bent her body forward and underneath the top bunk. She swept the young boy into her tight embrace for a brief moment. She released him to allow Honey, then Wasabi, then Fred to parrot her actions. At the end of their group’s show of solidarity, Tadashi wasn't sure if Hiro’s lopsided smile was out of discomfort or bashfulness.

"Thanks guys," Hiro said with a small laugh. 

"Your brother must have been a good man," Honey-Lemon commented tenderly. She rubbed her hands together. Her feet shuffled beneath her tall legs. 

“He was,” the younger Hamada murmured. “Was a total nerd, most of the time, but he was a really great big brother.” 

Tadashi had to bite back a chuckle. 

“Why don’t you tell us about him?” Fred offered as he kneeled onto the floor. The rest of the group followed suit, situating themselves comfortably in front of Hiro. 

Tadashi stiffened. He wanted to steer the conversation away from such an uncomfortable topic, but he wasn’t sure how to do so without calling negative attention to himself. Before Tadashi could figure out if anything could be said or done to spare his little brother, Hiro beamed at the nerd crew.

Though his eyes continued to shimmer, his smile didn’t seem quite so out of place. The previous four years that clung onto him like heavy, corporeal shadows vanished right before his eyes. Hiro appeared to be himself, the self Tadashi remembered, again. Something so delightful, bordering on painful, bloomed from his middle and spread to his eyes, threatening to make him openly weep with happiness 

“He was great and so smart!” Hiro chirped. “ He could build a bot out of anything...”

For what seemed like hours, Hiro regaled the entire crew with stories of their misadventures. They learned of Tadashi and Hiro’s after school robotics ventures. The group was then entertained by the stories of Hiro’s teenage bot fighting habits, and Tadashi’s valiant efforts to save him from the begrudged criminals he swindled. Afterwards, the younger Hamada proceeded to enthusiastically told his friends about how Tadashi would spend hours teaching him the proper ways to throw a knife. As their trip down Hiro’s happier childhood memories came to an end, the nerd crew could practically taste Aunt Cass’ famous cookies from the boy’s flamboyant descriptions alone. Hiro then approached the uncomfortable topic of Tadashi’s demise. 

He spared his friends the bloody details, but did describe, with flowery language and exuberant gestures no less, how utterly brave Tadashi was for volunteering in his place. If it wasn’t for how bitter the story truly was, the elder sibling would have preened under the praise. While Tadashi knew that his brother had a great fondness for him, it was encouraging to be an outsider looking in without the filter of familiarity shadowing the truth of how deep his admiration went. 

The line of their conversation shifted after Gogo acknowledged Hiro’s understandable hatred for the Capitol. In response, Hiro asked the group poignantly why they had left their homes if they had been Capitol citizens, pointing out that he couldn’t imagine why any of the pampered elite would voluntarily leave such a life behind. 

Gogo explained that the Capitol stifled her engineering process. Societal pressure had placed more importance on her physical appearance and finding a husband to support her than on her scientific accomplishments. This had caused a deeply embedded bitterness toward her homeland to fester like a cancer. After finding out that Urban, who had then been her lab partner, was being taken to District 13, she had been one of the first to volunteer to go with him. 

Honey-Lemon admitted that, after her parents had been imprisoned over an unresolved debt, she felt as though she had been a slave to the Capitol. They had pressured her to use other means to pay back her father’s financial obligations, including going into prostitution. She couldn’t force herself to do so, and her parents paid the ultimate price for that inability. Weeks before she had left with her next door neighbor, Urban, her parents were found dead in their cells. 

Wasabi spun a horrific political tale. His sister, a high ranking government official who had opposed a proposed district work increase, had been found deceased in her home. When Wasabi’s family had questioned the coroner as to the cause of her death, the doctor responded that her death was ruled as a natural occurrence. She had only been thirty-five. Wasabi, Urban’s direct superior, agreed to flee at the first mention of an escape attempt. 

Fred’s reasoning had been no less sinister. His father had been a business mogul, who had powerful connections with the Capitol. After a deal had fallen through, one that the Capitol had been counting on to boost their over inflated economy, Fred’s father had disappeared. The only shred left of his existence was a note that instructed his son to go to their old family friend, Plutarch Heavensbee, for help.

The discussion had been sobering, and by the end of it, everyone was absolutely exhausted. The nerd crew bid the siblings a good night before heading back to their assigned beds. 

Hiro and Tadashi settled themselves into their own bunk before drifting into a restless slumber. 

\---

The next morning was quiet. The bunker was silent for the exception of the whirling ventilation system that pumped oxygen into the large room. Hiro was perturbed by the lack of activity around him. He felt as though he had woken up in a tomb. 

He twisted his body around and was comforted by the feeling of something warm and solid against him. He rested his head against the flesh of Tadashi’s arm. Hiro wasn’t close enough to feel his heartbeat, but his consolation was the steady rise and fall of his chest underneath his splayed hand.

Tadashi took a deep breath through his nose. Hiro felt somewhat relieved for the action, and even more so when he looked up to see his brother’s eyelids flutter. He was bothered by the loneliness silence brought, and Tadashi’s presence was more than agreeable. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” Tadashi said hoarsely, voice still heavy with sleep. He beamed down at Hiro. The younger boy felt his heart and stomach flutter violently, almost as if they were trying to escape the confines of his body. 

“Hey,” Hiro greeted, mirroring his elder brother’s expression. 

Tadashi cleared his throat. He peered over Hiro’s shoulder before looking back at him with a mild, questioning expression. “Have they made any sort of announcement yet?” he asked. 

Hiro shook his head. “Not one that I have heard.” 

Tadashi chuckled. “Then what are we doing awake?” he quipped. He raised his arm and beckoned, with a slight inclination of his head, for his little brother to settle closer to his side.

Hiro gladly took the invitation, eagerly scooting into the space provided for him. He nestled himself in the crook of his brother’s arm and rested his head on the hard planes of the chest underneath him. The younger sibling sighed contently once Tadashi’s arm was draped around his neck. 

“You’re so lazy, knucklehead,” Hiro chortled playfully. 

A deep rumbling echoed beneath the boy, making his heart skip the ever persistent beat against his ribcage. “Not like there’s anything else we can do until they give us the go ahead -” 

Just as Tadashi’s words spilled from his mouth like a magic spell of divination, an announcement blared over the bunker’s sound system. Despite the static and distortion, Alma Coin’s distinctive voice filtered through. Authoritively, she spoke, “Good morning citizens of District 13, I would like to thank you for your successful participation in our evacuation. Soon, security forces will escort you back to your home units by section. Once everyone is securely back in their stations, all non-emergency personnel will commence with their assigned schedules tomorrow morning at 0700. Thank you for your attention and cooperation.” 

Hiro felt Tadashi shrug beside him. “Alright, well, now we wait to go back to our rooms,” he said cheerfully. 

The next hour was spent preparing for their turn to leave the bunker. Section by section, Hiro watched as neat lines of people filed passed them and toward the opened gates of their reinforced sanctuary, disappearing into the dimly-lit abyss of the emergency stairwell. Hiro had an abundance of patience for his turn, happily waiting with his brother as he spoke ardently about the next phase in Baymax’s construction. By the time a security officer stopped by their bunk, the younger sibling was almost unwilling to leave, especially when he saw the urgent, almost frightened expression on the officer’s face.

“Urban,” the security personnel greeted the sitting man. Irritatingly enough, he made no acknowledgement of Hiro’s existence. “The mission is a go. You’re to head to Command immediately.” 

Hiro felt gravity increase around him. His heart slowed to a stop as it dropped to his knees. A rolling wave of nausea lurched through his stomach. Sudden torrents of ice water filled his veins, numbing his shivering flesh.

Hiro’s vision blurred as he hysterically cried out, “No, no, not yet. I-I still haven't - I'm not ready to-” 

The security officer shot him a hard look, thoroughly silencing the boy without a word to the teen. Instead, he commanded Tadashi to, “Come with us.” He waved his hand to beckon the elder Hamada up. 

On impulse, Hiro reached an arm out, winding it around Tadashi’s own as tightly as he physically could, as though he could somehow keep Tadashi from going if only he held on hard enough. "No!" Hiro shouted, "No, you can't take him." 

"Son, we don't have time for this," the officer said gruffly. 

The abrupt, desperate need for contact, to feel Tadashi alive and steady, urged Hiro to press his forehead against his elder brother’s warm shoulder. He screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to block everything but his brother out. After a single heartbeat, dejected that his simple plan did not work against the cruelty of their fate, he moaned weakly. "No, please don't take him."

“Please, give us five minutes,” he heard Tadashi plead with his commanding officer.

Several moments went by in complete reticence until the security officer sighed harshly through his pursed lips and tapped his foot several times in a steady cadence. “You have ten minutes to get ready and meet your party in the war room,” he grunted. He pivoted on his heel and made his way to the next group of people. 

Hiro vaguely heard him command his neighbors to line up and leave the shelter in an orderly fashion, but it faded away like everything else around him. All of his senses culminated on Tadashi until the only thing he could see, hear, smell, feel was his older brother. 

How long would he have that? How long would he be able to gaze upon his face? How long would he be able to hear the soft sounds of his breathing? How long would he be able to smell his unique musk? How long would he be able to feel him pressed against his side? From Urban's orders, he had ten minutes. 

Hiro gritted his teeth behind the seem of his lips. He fought the anger that welled inside of him, spreading like a wildfire gone out of control. He tried to focus on the moment, to lovingly etch Tadashi in the recesses of his memory before it was too late, but it was difficult when his spirit roared against the injustice of it all. It cried against how unfair it was that Tadashi would be taken away from him just as he realized his amorous feelings for him. 

Unlike his first goodbye, this one was needlessly complicated. Unsaid and unresolved feelings filled the space between them. His lungs heaved under the weight of everything he felt for Tadashi. Heavy sobs escaped him, wracking his entire body as he released the volcanic force of his emotions through his tears. 

He couldn't do this. He couldn't leave this, whatever it was between them, behind with a goodbye. Tadashi had to know, even if it left the elder Hamada stunned and disgusted by him. At least Hiro would know. At least Hiro wouldn't be left with "what if". 

Hiro peered up at his brother. He took in the hopelessness in his eyes and the sorrow that clung to the corners of his mouth. It was the exact same look Tadashi had given him four years ago, and there they were again. Hiro was to be left behind while Tadashi was torn painfully from his side. 

Hiro released Tadashi's arm and placed his hands on the elder's cheeks to capture his undivided attention. For a moment, he paused. Hiro’s mind reeled through all of the words he could possibly conjure, but none of them seemed right or fitting. No sentence, no matter the structure or syntax, could carry the weight of what was in his heart. 

After he resolved that only actions could express what it was he wished to convey, Hiro leaned forward. Just as he pressed his lips tenderly against Tadashi's, he thought bitterly of the symmetry of that moment. 

Hiro nearly yelped when he felt Tadashi press himself further into the affection, wholly unexpecting reciprocation, but . incredibly joyful for it. He felt Tadashi’s arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him even closer. The elder tilted his head and deepened the kiss by dragging the tip of his tongue along the line of Hiro’s mouth. The younger sibling eagerly mirrored his elder brother’s actions until they were both exploring the unfamiliar planes of the other’s mouth. 

Hiro felt bombs burst in his belly. Heat, desire, desperate need surged through him. His mouth greedily took what was offered to him, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He wanted more. 

All too soon, they were forced apart by the vibrations coming from Tadashi’s front pocket. They shared a few panting breaths before the elder sibling fished his communicator cuff from his pocket. Tadashi’s eyebrows knitted together and his mouth formed a tight line as his eyes scanned the message that was displayed.

Tadashi threw his hand down dramatically against the bed. He looked away. “They want me in Command now,” Tadashi hissed. 

Despair tugged at Hiro’s chest. He coaxed his older brother to look at him with a pull of his cheek. Hiro craned onward and placed a single, chaste kiss on his mouth. 

“You better come back,” Hiro whispered against Tadashi’s lips. “For this.” 

Tadashi resumed his hold of Hiro’s cheeks. He rubbed lines over the rise of his flesh with his thumbs. With a gaze so intense it nearly stole Hiro's breath away, he said, "I don't need incentive to come back to you, so please, tell me if this is real or not." 

Hiro nodded without a single question or hesitation. "Yes. Yes, this is real." 

Tadashi smiled, genuinely and with all the brilliance Hiro never expected to see again on his brother’s face. The elder Hamada placed a small kiss on Hiro’s forehead, then on the bridge of his nose, and then on his bottom lip. 

“Good,” Tadashi murmured. 

\---

On his way to the war room, Tadashi walked on autopilot, his legs only guided by muscle memory. His thoughts were completely preoccupied by Hiro, specifically by how their relationship had suddenly shifted within a blink of an eye, without any warning. 

At the time of their kiss, he felt elated. He never imagined that his feelings would be returned in such a way. That elation was worn away, bit by bit, with each step he took away from the boy as the implications of what had just transpired between them took root in his brain. 

Questions he never thought to ask himself surfaced to the forefront of his mind. What did this mean for them? What kind of relationship could be birthed from this? Could it ever be a healthy one? Did he somehow project his feelings and manipulate Hiro into this somehow? Was his kiss just premature grief? Did Hiro actually love him? Would he die never really knowing?

Before he could answer any of those questions with any certainty, he walking passed the hissing automatic doors of the centralized command unit.

Tadashi was not reprimanded for his lateness, as was expected when he entered the war room. Rather, a hush fell over the group. Five pairs of eyes simultaneously stared at him. There was a restrained sympathy and tentative respect in them. Tadashi felt a shiver run down his spine; he was oddly reminded of his last moments in his home district. 

Tadashi took the only empty seat at the interactive table. Boggs, from the other side of board, nodded at him. Tadashi returned the gesture in acknowledgment. 

“Alright, now that we’re all here,” Boggs began. His gaze flitted back and forth at each one of his teammates’, ensuring their undivided attention. “We have gotten some credible intel that the remaining victors are in the tribute center." On the table's LED screen, a large 3D model of a skyscraper appeared. Dialogue boxes appeared next to the model, highlighting each important section of the building by floor number and name."Since the Capitol has lost its power due to the rebel attack on District 5’s dam, we have an opportunity to go in undetected and get our targets out.” 

Boggs went on to explain, with the help of computer simulated models and descriptive blueprints, that they would send in a single hovercraft to hover above the tribute center. From there, they were to break into the building via its skylights. The team would then propel from the ceiling down to the lowest floors where the laboratories were stationed. Once successfully inside, the plan was to extract their targets from the labs and propel back into their aircraft as quickly as possible. 

As soon as everyone made the verbal acknowledgement of “understood”, they were on their way to the hangar’s locker room to change into their gear. 

\---

Hiro paced Tadashi’s home unit. His body was alight with unspent energy. For the life of him, he couldn’t sit still. Each time he tried, he was surged upwards by an unseen force, demanding that he move. 

He walked along the line of their bed, over and over again. His hands would curl into tight fists every so often before he would shake them loose with a frustrated grunt. 

Hiro’s entire body ached with tension, especially his knotted stomach. He had entered the shared bathroom a number of times to dry heave into the porcelain bowl of the toilet, but nothing would come of it, relieving him of his pain. Instead, he was forced to curl against the bathroom wall and cry, only to get up and repeat the same cycle. 

After what seemed like hours of worry and angst, something in Hiro’s drawer buzzed. Without thought, Hiro took several strides towards the dresser and threw it opened. Within the front pocket of the rumpled uniform he had worn the previous day, a communicator cuff vibrated incessantly. 

Yes, that’s right. In the commotion of the evacuation, he had forgotten to show Tadashi the progress he had made on his latest project. A sharp pain lacerated through his chest. 

With a quivering finger, Hiro pressed the envelope icon that flashed at the bottom of the communicator cuff’s display. A short message opened up, reading: 

“Hello Hiro, I couldn’t get you clearance into the command center, so I thought [THIS] would be the next best thing. - BT.”

Hiro tapped on the link that was submitted to him. Instantaneously, the communicator cuff’s screen presented a live feed of the command center, focused primarily on the exceedingly large monitors that were situated on the room’s far wall. One of the monitors, to the left of the main and largest projection, displayed six individual nightvision feeds. Hiro assumed they were from cameras situated on the volunteers’ headsets. The feed on the bottom, furthest to the left, showed an seated and unharmed Tadashi bathed in a grainy green. 

Hiro whooped with unadulterated cheer. Beetee, that brilliant, genius man, must have snuck a microbot into the command center. From the angle and position of the video, it was situated where it was out of sight but in clear view of the action. With the communicator cuff’s connection to the tiny machine and the hyperspectral camera built into its joint, Hiro was given nearly full access to what was happening inside of central command. He was only missing audio. 

Over the course of what had to be the hovercraft ride to the Capitol, Hiro’s eyes darted from monitor to monitor, soaking in the plethora of diagrams and plans, the volunteers’ vital signs listed underneath their camera feeds, and the main screen showing Finnick Odair speaking.

At first, Hiro wondered why Finnick seemed to be filming a propaganda short. He didn’t want to alert anyone to his invisible presence by typing out a message to Beetee, but such a confirmation became superfluous when he noticed that one of the monitors displayed a network map of the Capitol’s data stream. From the red and orange painted on the figure, it seemed as though whatever Finnick was filming was actively jamming the Capitol’s media input and output. 

Genius, Hiro thought to himself with a grin, absolutely brilliant. 

The next few minutes went by in a blur. As indicated on one of the large, interactive diagrams, the volunteers successfully bypassed the antiaircraft missiles situated on the outskirts of the massive city without a single incident, allowing Hiro to let out a sigh of relief. They reached the tribute center in a matter of moments. 

From what Hiro could see on Tadashi’s headset cam, he was one of the last volunteers to propel from the hovercraft down into a broken ceiling window. His feed brightened to a hazy lime-green once he entered the darkened building. The descent to the bottom floor was an agonizingly slow one, but thankfully, uneventful. 

When they reached their destination, Hiro caught a view of three peacekeepers sprawled against the wall. They were in natural positions, as if they had merely collapsed and fallen asleep where they landed. The volunteers crouched and walked passed them towards a set of double doors. 

One of the volunteers opened the right door by a crack and threw a standard smoke grenade inside the room. After several seconds, each of the soldiers entered what appeared to be a nightmarish laboratory of some kind. 

The scene was macabre. Rows of cages held scarred and wounded animals beating against the wire metal that retained them. At the end of the rows were work stations, each of which housed a variety of syringes and beakers, filled with strange, indiscernible liquids. On several of the desks were trays containing organic material of some kind, although what it was, Hiro didn’t want to guess. The worst of what he witnessed, the images that nearly sent Hiro lurching over the side of his bed, were the pictures of past human experiments pinned haphazardly on cork boards lining the walls. 

Suddenly, a bright flash of white burst from the screen.


	11. Silhouettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard letting go,  
> I'm finally at peace, but it feels wrong,  
> Slow I'm getting up,  
> My hands and feet are weaker than before.  
> And you are folded on the bed  
> Where I rest my head,  
> There's nothing I can see,  
> Darkness becomes me.
> 
> But I'm already there,  
> I'm already there,  
> Wherever there is you,  
> I will be there too
> 
> There's nothing that I'd take back,  
> But it's hard to say there's nothing I regret.  
> Cause when I sing, you shout,  
> I breathe out loud,  
> You bleed, we crawl like animals,  
> But when it's over, I'm still awake
> 
> A thousand silhouettes dancing on my chest,  
> No matter where I sleep, you are haunting me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was surprisingly difficult to write, even though I had it planned out for weeks. But I got through! Again, apologies for taking so long to get this out to you guys. Thanks to Lipox24 for beta-ing my fic.

Without warning, liquid sun was poured into Tadashi's eyes. He cried out, echoing the soldiers around him. Instinctively, his eyes shut themselves against the bright onslaught. Gloved fingers frantically felt for the button on his gas mask that would turn off the visor's night vision display. Once he heard the merciful click of a switch near his ear, he hesitantly fluttered his eyelids open. 

It took several long, exaggerated blinks for his vision to come back to focus, but through a blurry, wet sheen, he could see that the building's florescent lights had been turned on. 

"They know we're here," Boggs said darkly behind him. 

Every physical fiber of Tadashi's being tensed. If the Capitol knew they were there, the entire group was as good as dead. For a brief moment, he despaired as his thoughts turned to Hiro. What would be of the brother who would be left alone again, to the lover he would be leaving behind? 

Abrupt panic settled heavily at the bottom of his lungs. His throbbing heart galloped to his throat. The skin of his arms and legs prickled against the fabric of his armor. 

"Come on," he heard Gale resolutely say next to him. Tadashi turned his head. Behind the clear plastic shield of his mask, the other man's eyes were hardened with something akin to determination. "We have a mission to complete." 

Tadashi took a deep breath. He drew strength from Gale's sure words. Slowly, but surely, the task at hand stabilized his shuttering foundation. His teammate was right; they had a job to do, and he had someone he promised to come home to. 

Through the communication device within his ear, Tadashi heard Beetee's voice swim through static. "Boggs, come in, Boggs. Do you copy?" 

"Copy," Boggs barked hoarsely. "I need a situation report." 

"There's no time, you need to get out of there," Beetee replied, his voice frantic despite his hushed tone. 

Boggs' shoulders slumped. "Move out," he commanded. 

The order brought everyone to a crouch. They fell back into two strategic lines, one next to the other. Boggs led the team, from his position at the top of the left line, to a pair of sterile-white doors. He straightened his body and positioned himself against the outside corner of the entrance, as did Gale on the opposite side. 

Boggs stared intently at Tadashi, capturing his full attention. He made a throwing motion. The commander then pointed his two prominent fingers toward the door. Tadashi nodded. 

He reached into his grenade holster and fished out a thick, metallic, cylindrical tube. At the head of the smart bomb, he twisted a dial until the small square screen at the center read "smk". Tadashi leaned forward, cracked the right door open just enough to allow him room to maneuver, and threw the smoke screen inside. He shut the door quickly after it. 

Boggs silently counted five seconds on his hand. At the end of the countdown, he pointed his index finger at the entryway. Taking Bogg's lead, the soldiers burst into a long, oppressively illuminated hallway. 

As according to the plan, Tadashi took his assigned position, standing guard against any other intruders just outside of the right door. The soldier who had been next to him took a parallel position to the left. 

Tadashi's back was turned to the rest of the group, but their strategy was etched behind his eyelids, giving him the ability to accurately visualize the activity behind him. Two soldiers would take their designated points against the walls in the middle of the hallway. Meanwhile, Boggs and Gale were to continue forward until they reached the access point of the room where the victors were being kept. 

Tadashi counted his breaths in an effort to relax his grip on his rifle. He willed himself to calm the tension in his extremities as he waited, aiming the laser sight of his gun at the seam of the door. The index finger of his prominent hand danced delicately over the trigger. He did not rely on a matter of if, but when the peacekeepers would barrel through the doorway in an attempt to stop them. Despite this, he forced himself to block out everything else and focus. He wouldn't allow a mistake to prevent him from seeing Hiro again. 

A low hum of static filtered into his ear. His trigger finger jumped away from the rifle as though it had shocked him. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Urban, do you copy?" he heard Gale say. He sounded out of breath, but otherwise, simply flustered with exasperation rather than harm. 

The point of Tadashi's eyebrow quirked as he wondered briefly what had occurred. Were the victors not there? If so, why did Gale sound as though he had exerted a great amount of effort? He shook his head, pushing his confusion away from the forefront of his mind. 

Gale sounded fine, and that was what was truly important. They weren't caught dead yet. 

"Copy," Tadashi acknowledged. 

Another burst of quiet static hit his ear before Gale came back through. "We need your assistance." 

"Yes, sir." 

\--- 

Hiro, dazed and flabbergasted, stared uselessly at his communicator cuff. The monitors within the war room only displayed the faintest white noise against the backdrop of a blinding glow. He could vaguely see shadows of movement pass over his view as people presumably scrambled passed the microbot, but other than that, nothing. One moment, he could see everything his brother was seeing, but in the next, his eyes navigated through electric snow. 

Hiro was numb. Between the farthest points of his body, he felt absolutely nothing. This wasn't like watching his brother die during the games. Then, he had fallen to his knees and screamed as everything inside of him shattered, burying shards of glass into the fabric of his dying soul. 

At that very moment, he stood firmly with his mouth agape, unable to process emotion or sensation. 

Two quiet rings came from his device. A transparent envelope icon appeared at the bottom-right of the screen. Hiro tapped on it. 

"Don't lose hope - BT" 

Despite himself, he scoffed. His message made it abundantly clear as to why he felt so empty. 

Back during his brother's run at the Hunger Games, he still had hope to hold onto. That belief was what made his brother's death so severe, so earth-shattering, so painful, as though he had somehow betrayed himself for having the optimism that Tadashi would return home to him. 

Switching over to his video feed, he came to find that he had no such belief. He didn't allow himself to have faith that his brother would return. The moment he watched Tadashi leave for his mission was the moment he lost him forever. 

He continued to gawk at the communicator cuff, powerless to do much else. After several moments of continuously watching the same cycle of activity, the edges of the monitors' screens warbled. 

Hiro's eyes widened, his pulse quickened, and he started to feel his skin bristle sharply against his clothing. Could it be? 

In the span of a moment, President Snow's smiling image flickered to focus. 

Hiro heard an angered shriek reverberate throughout his room. It wasn't until after his throat had become raw that he recognized the voice as his own. 

\--- 

Tadashi hustled down the corridor and into the victors' room, only to be met with a struggling Gale as he tried to restrain an emaciated woman thrashing on a hospital bed. She punched and slapped at him as he tried to take a hold of her thin arms. In spite of being a husk of skin and bones, she had enough strength to jostle violently, causing the wheels of her bed to squeak underneath her. 

"Urban!" Gale called out through what sounded like clenched teeth. "I need you to sedate her!" 

Tadashi quickly scanned the large room for a medicine cabinet, but the room was bare for the exception of an empty metallic tray and a stool sitting near the foot of the bed. He wracked his brain for some sort of solution and cursed himself for not thinking to bring diazepam or some sort of soft tranquilizer with him. The only vial he had in his medical pack was exceedingly strong pain medication, which could easily kill a person in her state. 

Without the physical means to subdue her, he used the only recourse he had available to him: psychology. 

Johanna, he thought to himself. This had to be Johanna. Though she was shaved bald, pale, bruised, and frail, he could easily recognize the fierceness in her eyes from anywhere. 

Johanna Mason had won the same Hunger Games he had participated in. During the event, he had been careful to avoid the District 7 tribute. After unwittingly displaying his propensity with a throwing knife during their training, she had made a subtle, but discernible, threat by stating that he should watch his back in the arena. That was before she winked at him and then swaggered to her corner of the training room. Regardless, there wasn't a guarantee that she would even recognize him, after all, he was one of twenty-three other tributes chosen four years ago. But, he had to try something before they were caught and captured. 

Tadashi lifted the gas mask away from his face. Recognition widened Johanna's eyes, making the shadows beneath them more stark and ugly. 

"You!" she screamed. "How the hell -?" 

Tadashi shook his head slowly, silencing Johanna with his passive gestures. Her iris' followed his careful motions, seemingly hypnotized. A blanket of calm descended over her frame until only her chest moved with each deep intake of breath. 

"You don't have to trust us," Tadashi stated smoothly. "But we can either restrain you with medication that could kill you, or you can come with us willingly. The choice is yours." 

Johanna's breathing became erratic. Her gaze flickered between Gale and Tadashi. "I'm not going anywhere until someone starts making some sense!" she cried out. 

Frustration mounted. "Johanna!" Tadashi barked with the force of all his pent up rage, indignation, everything he hadn't allowed himself to feel until this girl threatened his ability to see his beloved again. Both Gale and Johanna visibly jumped. 

His anger couldn't burn away the guilt that manifested in his chest when both his teammate and the woman he was supposed to be rescuing looked at him with stricken gazes. In a much gentler manner, he said, "We don't have time. We'll explain on the way." 

"Gale," Boggs' voice rasped through into his ear com. "I've located the two other targets, were you able to subdue the third? 

Tadashi's face must have betrayed his slight confusion, because Gale pointed to the open doorway at the far end of the room before he had a chance to ask where their commander had gone. 

A rush of air escaped Gale's breathing apparatus. "Yes, with Urban's assistance, he's with me now." 

"Urban, take Johanna to the hovercraft and be prepared to administer first aid," Boggs commanded. 

Tadashi nodded at Gale. "Understood." 

\--- 

President Snow's upturned lips slithered over the curve of his words. Although he was without sound, Hiro didn't need to hear him. He clearly understood the vile man's meaning. I won, he said with the malicious, calculated laughter in his eyes. 

No. No, he had not. He may have won the battle, but he would not win the war. 

Hiro laughed; it was an ugly, hollow sound that resounded from the pit of his empty heart. His hatred burned anew, and he vowed to use its flames to incinerate the Capitol until it was nothing but smoldering ash. Nothing would stop him from watching Snow immolate before him. Then, and only then, would he allow himself to finally die. 

Snow's image fell away to white noise. 

\--- 

Initially, Tadashi thought it would be difficult to assist Johanna into the hovercraft, but her delicate state did not soften the edges of her sharp dignity. She refused to be carried, and instead, allowed her escort to lead the way to the roof of the building and into their vehicle. Much to her bodyguard's amazement, she had very little difficulty keeping a swift pace. 

Once inside, Tadashi gently persuaded her to one of the four prone gurneys strapped securely within the cargo hold of the hovercraft, even as she insisted weakly that she was fine. Once she laid her body down, the elder Hamada went to work examining his new patient. 

The tiny illuminations coming from the hovercraft console did little to give him an adequate amount of light for his task. Instead, he produced a small flashlight from the front pocket of his raid gear. With his thumb, he clicked the device on, casting a tiny ray of light on Johanna's flinching face. 

The girl, either cooperative or simply too tired to fight against Tadashi's ministrations, allowed him to inspect her eyes, ears and teeth without complaint. He mentally cataloged his findings: slight jaundice of the eye, inflamed sinuses and reduced enamel of the teeth. His diagnosis was simple; she was severely malnourished, so much so that she was already knocking on death's door. Had she gone another day - Tadashi shuttered to think about it. 

He secured his flash flight between the top of his ear and the side of his head, giving himself a free hand to unzip the medical pack secured to his thigh. He fished out a stethoscope. Once the buds of the instrument were within his ears, Tadashi used a gentle hand to help Johanna to a sitting position. He could almost feel her bones creaking together beneath his gloved palm. He cringed. 

Tadashi warmed the chest piece of the stethoscope by exhaling hot air against it for a few moments. He took a deep breath through his nose as he placed the instrument between the folds of her hospital gown, careful to avoid looking or even touching the bare skin of her chest as he listened. Instead his eyes scanned the deep contours of her smirking face, ignoring the Hiro-like arrogance she exuded in favor of further examining the damage done by the Capitol. He read her torture in the dozens of contusions, bruises and shallow lacerations that marred her features. Meanwhile, the thumping of her heart rang loud and clear through his head. 

Knowing Johanna, even briefly, it wasn't surprising that her heartbeat was as strong as it was, but the slight arrhythmia in its cadence concerned him. It was internally notated along with the rest of her ailments. 

Tadashi brought the chest piece to her veiled back. He gradually moved the device from the left side of her mid-back to the right. His skin crawled during the trek over the sickeningly prominent jutting of her ribs. Faintly, he heard a slight rattling as she breathed. Pushing down bile, he asked Johanna to, "Take a deep breath for me." 

The victor inhaled and exhaled, making the crackling in her lungs all the more obvious. Pneumonia, or some other kind of inflammation, diseased both of her main airways. It was just another medical complication on the ever-growing list. 

Tadashi sniffed. He untangled himself from his stethoscope and wrapped the tubing around the back of his neck. "We need to get an IV in you right away," the medic explained, his voice low and calm even in the face of her condition. 

Johanna robotically presented her arm. Her smirk widened and there was an animalistic quality to her focused stare. Tadashi found the reaction unnerving; a weight of something he couldn't identify dropped into the pit of his stomach. 

\--- 

Hiro headed to the field training room after being directed to do so by Beetee's last message to his communicator cuff. When he briskly walked passed its hissing doors, he was greeted by the sight of his mentor and Plutarch. They were sitting adjacent to one another at the scientist's usual work station, seemingly deep in discussion. Hiro approached with heavy steps, bringing their attention to him. 

"Hiro," Beetee whispered the name as though the younger man had risen from the dead. "I almost thought you wouldn't show." 

Hiro was taken back to when he was a tumultuous teenager, one that would disappear for days within District 3's maze of brick walls and concrete alleyways. No matter how many times his Aunt Cass begged and Beetee attempted to dissuade him not to, he would stifle his sorrow with the heart-pounding adrenaline that came with illegal bot fighting. Only the torrential rush of battling gave him the ability to feel something other than agony and loss. The money, the rations, the luxury goods were only secondary prizes; his true goal was to find relief from his pain, if only temporarily. 

Hiro exhaled through his nose. He bit at his upper lip. "Understandable," he ground out after a brief moment of tense silence. 

Beetee took off his ill-fitted glasses. He rubbed at his eyes with his unoccupied hand until his thumb and index finger found the bridge of his nose and squeezed. Releasing himself, he placed the glasses back on his face. "We - uh, we lost communication with Urban's team. We don't have very much news," he said solemnly. 

News. The simple word shocked Hiro. He didn't anticipate it. He expected Beetee to hug him tight, hold him close, tell him that everything would be alright even when they both knew that nothing would ever be okay again. 

Not this. Never this. 

The younger Hamada - the only Hamada left - stood frozen as the implications of Beetee's simple statement crawled down his spine and spread to the outermost reaches of his silhouette. News meant that they were still searching. News meant that they still held out for Tadashi's team to make it back. News meant that hadn't lost hope. News meant they hadn't given up while Hiro had. 

The teen could do little more than blink back the tears that drowned his eyes. 

How could there be news if there was no news to be had? How could Beetee not see that his lover's mission was a call for his suicide? Tadashi was gone. Urban was gone. In one night, he had lost them both, and yet Beetee continued to perpetuate the myth that he was out there somehow. 

Beetee's fantasy brought everything to the surface. His shattered heart fell to his stomach where it fluttered lamely, causing his stomach to roll until he felt as though he would be sick. It became difficult to breath as his chest constricted around his aching lungs, pushing out his unstable breaths as dry sobs. He couldn't do this. He couldn't - 

"Hiro," Plutarch began quietly. He took Hiro's slim shoulder into his meaty hand. "I know you and Urban were extremely close, but we need to focus on the task at hand here -" 

Beetee actually growled, which startled Hiro out of his stupor. The young man had never heard his mentor make such a sound before. He stared owlishly at his father figure. 

"Plutarch," Beetee warned beneath his curled lip. "This is too soon." 

Plutarch didn't address Beetee. The plump man didn't even look at him. He just continued to stare intently at Hiro, who had the distinct feeling of being hunted down. "There is nothing more that I want than to give you the time to collect yourself, but time is of the essence. We need to move on with the next phase of the rebellion. I was given word that all the districts, but District 2, have fallen into rebel hands. We need your help to get the last -" 

"You sent Urban to die, and you want me to help you?" Hiro snarled. The inferno that swept through his insides burned through the cracks in his words. The boy's fists clenched at his sides. He shook with the force of his barely contained fury. 

He stepped forward and took the front of Plutarch's uniform in his grasp. Vaguely, somewhere far away, he heard someone call his name, but he paid it no mind. His singular focus was on his brother's executioner. 

Plutarch remained outwardly unflinching and unperturbed, as though he had expected Hiro's reaction. He slowly raised his hands up. "No, Hiro. I'm not asking you to help me. I'm asking you to fight against the Capitol. Remember who the real enemy is." 

Hiro already knew who the real enemy was. While the Capitol was the embodiment of everything corrupt and evil, District 13 was merely the other side of that coin. Even Tadashi, naïve and blindly faithful, had known that. 

His allegiance was already shaky at best, but the Capitol was his first target. Plutarch had the resources he needed to destroy it. Reluctantly, he let the man go, but not without the silent promise that the moment District 13's usefulness came to an end, it would be his next victim. 

"What do you need from me?" 

\--- 

"This doesn't make any sense." 

Tadashi, who had previously been staring at the folded hands in his lap, snapped his head up. His gaze met Gale's pensive one. The lines on the younger man's face were deep and jagged, making him seem decades older than he really was. Tadashi had to bitterly remind himself that, despite Gale's military persona and statuesque appearance, he was no older than Hiro. The thought made him shiver. 

"What doesn't?" Tadashi answered, taking care to do so softly enough to not wake the three victors resting merely a few feet away from their seats. 

"Their systems came back online, their antiaircraft weapons were locked on us, but they never even took a shot," Gale explained, mimicking Tadashi's quiet tone. Yet, it was enough to capture the attentions of their weary compatriots. They leaned forward. "And did you notice the lack of peacekeepers? How many did you even see, Urban?" 

Tadashi didn't need to spend much time in thought. Immediately upon realization, he responded back with a elongated gasp of, "Just two." 

Gale turned his head, facing Boggs who sat near the front of the hovercraft. "How many were guarding Peeta?" 

"Two," Boggs replied, though his answer was much more grounded than Tadashi's, as if the commander had already considered that train of thought, possibly before Gale even had. 

"I think we just walked into a trap," the young soldier echoed Tadashi's exact thoughts. 

 

\--- 

"We need your microbots ready to be mass produced as soon as possible." 

Plutarch's words echoed through Hiro's skull, along with the rapid pounding of his footsteps. 

District 13 wanted his microbots fully operational for their upcoming assault on District 2, the weapons district. After the first uprising, it replaced District 13 as the center for the Capitol's mass production of artillery. Currently, while smaller rebellious factions had cropped up along the outskirts of the district, the mountainous stronghold storing the Capitol's armaments was still under enemy control. If the rebels were to win the war, they needed to capture the facility, subsequently cutting off the main source of the Capitol's military power. 

According to Plutarch, Hiro's microbots would be essential for the job. 

Hiro agreed, but only after District 13 repatriated his brother's remains to him. It didn't matter how impossible the task would be, he refused to offer his services to the cause until Tadashi was returned to him, alive or dead. 

Before Plutarch could open his thin lips to retaliate, Hiro took off. He ran as fast and as far as he physically could, although he knew not where that would lead him. For what seemed like hours, he didn't stop. It wasn't until he reached the mess hall that his flamed lungs demanded that he stop for breath. 

Sweat soaked the front of his uniform. His calves ached. The dryness in his mouth begged to be soothed with water. Yet, Hiro desired for nothing but to continue on his way, to race until his emotions were stomped into the earth below him. 

Hiro studied the mess hall to find a place to hide and rest for a short while and found a familiar wave of unruly brunette hair. Was that - ? Yes, yes it was. Katniss Everdeen sat alone in the middle of the cafeteria. 

Hiro fantasized about stalking over to her, yanking at the rat's nest that was her hair, and slapping the girl for everything he was worth. Before rationality could restrain him from doing so, his feet automatically led him to the table where the girl was sitting. Just as he raised his hand to reach for her matted curls, Katniss turned her upper body towards him. 

The girl's red-rimmed eyes stared up at him with such desperation that it almost physically deflated Hiro. Wet tracks stained the prominent curve of her cheeks. Dry, cracked lips parted slightly to give way a cry of, "Any news?" 

Hiro blanked out. He blinked several times. "I- uh, no, I'm not -" 

Katniss sniffed. Palpable disappointment filled the space between them. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were with command." 

Hiro felt his hatred for the girl melt into the soles of his boots, leaving behind an ugly stain upon his conscience. There was something in the way her glassy stare reflected his own sorrow that brought his thoughts to Prim. He was reminded of the story he and the young medic shared. Upon those pages were the lines written about Katniss, about Tadashi, about the siblings who sacrificed everything to keep their loved ones safe. 

Katniss was hurt deeply, wounded by the choices she was forced to make, just as Tadashi was. It was evident in the way her eyelashes fluttered against the weight of her tears and in the trembling of her bottom lip. This wasn't the girl on fire, the Hunger Games victor, the rebel leader who manipulated the populace to get whatever she selfishly desired. This was Katniss, a girl younger than he who had already lost too much. 

Suddenly far too exhausted to stand, Hiro plopped down on the seat next to her. For several hours, they shared nothing but silence and internal prayers. 

\--- 

When the hovercraft landed in the hangar, Boggs ordered that the crew remain stationary within the vehicle. A fully operational bomb squad was requested as soon as possible, if not quicker. Within seconds, in hazmat suits and layers upon layers of protection, an entire team deliberately swept through each nook, cranny and crevice of the aircraft, but they found no evidence of an explosive device. 

Then, a member of the medical division, who was impossibly more bundled than the bomb experts, boarded the ship. They brought Baymax's station along with them. Tadashi activated the robot with a small cry of "ow", and waited with a bated breath for his creation to do its job. The robot assessed Johanna's damage, Peeta's unconsciousness and Annie's mental instability, but could not detect a foreign body inside of them. Tadashi assured the crew that even if the Capitol had invented a new disease, Baymax would have still been able to detect any unknown substance within their systems. 

Confused, but relieved, the squad was deemed safe enough to enter the confines of District 13, but were ordered to the medical bay for a full evaluation. Tadashi swallowed the letdown in the face of more time spent apart from Hiro, but his heart and tummy soared at the thought of seeing him again. He could hardly contain his shivering as excitement buzzed beneath his flesh. 

He was alive. He was home. 

\--- 

Hiro remained awake in bed, staring at the flat ceiling, unable to cry, but also unable to sleep. His thoughts were jumbled and unorganized. Katniss. Tadashi. Urban. Gale. Peeta. Prim. The nerd crew. He couldn't focus on a single one of them, and yet he couldn't leave them be. Just as he would drift into unconsciousness, an anxiety would flare in his middle, bringing him back inside his disheveled mind. 

A knock startled him out of his reverie. 

He untangled himself from his itchy sheets and padded over to the front door, oddly grateful to whomever gave him something to do aside from sulking. He opened his room to Beetee, who stared up at him with a twinkle in his eyes and a grin that stretched across his face. "They’re here! They made it back. Urban's in the medical bay." 

Without giving himself a moment to say something or feel anything, Hiro ran down the hall and to the elevator, leaving Beetee's roar of laughter behind him. Shaking fingers closed twin grates and frantically pressed the button that would bring the boy to his salvation. He bounced on his heels as his cage descended. After a small eternity, the elevator door opened to the familiar space of the hospital wing. 

People milled about, running to and fro, but Hiro couldn't care less as he navigated through the frantic throng. He needed to see only one person, who was leaning against the left side of the information console. 

Hiro pounced, capturing Tadashi in his tight embrace. He clung onto the taller man as though he would vanish if his grip wasn't strong enough. As his tears fell, he wished for this to not be dream. Please let this not be a dream. Please, please, please. 

"Hiro," Tadashi breathed against the strands of his hair. 

The younger man lifted his chin. Tadashi's broken expression crushed the remnants of Hiro's battered heart. His elder brother's bright amber eyes shimmered with his overflowing tears. His pouting bottom lip wobbled, barely containing his whimper. A sob escaped the elder Hamada the moment he pressed their foreheads together. "Oh Hiro," he moaned. "I was so scared. So scared, but I had to come back to you. I promised." 

Hiro closed his eyes and nodded. Emotions, some of which he couldn't even name, competed with one another to alight his nerves. His focal point, however, was the man in his arms and the way he felt beneath his fingertips. 

The younger Hamada swallowed the stone that formed in his throat. "You did. You kept your promise. You're here now," he whispered against the taller man's lips. 

With a tilt of his head, Hiro captured his lover's mouth in a kiss.


	12. Black Pearl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm dreamin' I see you dying  
> I need you  
> I know it's no use  
> I'm falling part  
> I'm falling to pieces, tonight. 
> 
> So say what you say  
> For the night  
> Say in my dreams  
> Hold me tight 
> 
> Like a black pearl...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short! I just wanted to get this mush out of my brain. This is really just a fluff chapter, both in feeling and in content. Stay tuned for the more exciting events, but for now, I give you the Hamada brothers being incredibly gay for each other. Thanks again to Lipox24 for beta-ing this fic.

Their kiss was merely a gentle exchange of lips. It was far from their first – second, Hiro reminded himself - kiss, which had been a manifestation of their mutual desperation and desire. This was a completely different culmination; their small gesture of affection was the deliverance of Tadashi’s promise, the discovery of Hiro’s amorous love, the fragile strength they drew from one another. 

A sudden commotion coming from the leftmost wing of the hospital startled the pair away from one another. Their attention turned to the origin of the continuous cacophony. Sounds of metal meeting metal, glass shattering and incessant thudding met their ears. Several voices shouted at once as a gaggle of doctors and nurses ran towards the abrupt, but unseen, activity. 

Hiro stiffened. His mind produced no action for him to take, far too bemused to inspire anything but questions, so he allowed his arms to tighten around Tadashi’s tense back instead. “What’s going on?” he asked beneath his breath to no one in particular. 

“I think they found the trap,” Tadashi responded, his tone equally knowing and panicked. 

The trap? Far from understanding Tadashi's meaning, Hiro opened his mouth to ask his brother to clarify, but Tadashi untangled himself from their embrace and ran in the same direction as the medical staff before any words could be produced. Without anything else to do, Hiro followed, quick-footed but careful to maintain at least a step away from Tadashi to grant him the lead.

Tadashi and Hiro joined the mass of people converging outside of a hospital room. In between the emergency personnel, and passed the glass windows of the room's twin doors, Hiro could see two people caught in a particularly rough scuffle. Upon further inspection, Hiro recognized the brunette participant as a struggling Katniss, who was clawing at the hands that were wound tightly around her neck. 

The couple toppled to the floor. Hiro gasped. Horror rolled from his heart to the pit of his stomach, settling as a lead weight. 

Both Hamada brothers forced their way through the forming crowd, but their attempt to enter the fray was stopped by Boggs. The commander put his arm out, blocking any access into the hospital room. Wordlessly, he shook his head before barreling inside. They stood frozen in place, even as they watched Boggs use the back of a folded chair to knock out Katniss' assailant. 

The ugly thundering aluminum sound caused Hiro's shoulders to jump. He placed a shaking hand on the meat of Tadashi's arm. The older boy turned his upper body towards him.

"What's going on?" Hiro asked once more; concern marred his words. 

Tadashi visibly swallowed. His eyes did not stray from the action. Hiro traced his lover's gaze back to the windows. Inside, several of the medical staff assisted Boggs in placing the unconscious blonde assaulter back onto his bed and Katniss onto a yellow, emergency gurney. 

"The mission was too easy," Tadashi explained, his voice low and heavy. "The Capitol knew we were there and just let us go. I think it's because they purposefully sent Peeta with us as a weapon against Katniss. It's the only explanation." 

"Wait!" Hiro nearly shouted, only restrained by weeks of being conditioned to exercise near silence within the confines of the hospital floor. "That was Peeta? That can't be -"  
Tadashi lowered his chin. He rubbed a palm over his brow. A long exhale of breath escaped his parted lips. "It is, but I can't imagine what they had to do in order to torture that boy into hurting Katniss." 

There was a hidden meaning behind his words, but Hiro found it easily. It echoed his own fears, fears he didn't dare say out loud. An unspoken question twisted his insides: Could they ever be tortured against one another other? 

\--- 

Tadashi felt his wrist vibrate. He looked down at his communicator cuff, where an envelope icon at the bottom-right of the screen announced the presence of an unanswered message. He pressed on it. 

Tadashi read over the simple command. Both he and Hiro were to go to the conference room located on the hospital level to attend a meeting. The elder Hamada groaned in protest; he had very little energy to waste on human interaction at that moment, least of all to discuss what he knew would be the "Peeta situation". Nevertheless, Tadashi instructed his younger brother to, "Come on, they're expecting us." 

The pair hastily made the short trip to a small office located in a hidden corner of the medical bay. It was an uncomfortably tight, nearly suffocating fit. It barely had enough space to accommodate the long table within, let alone the seven people who crowded around it. Tadashi held back a grimace. 

Plutarch gestured to the empty chairs across from Boggs, Gale, Beetee, and a blonde man he didn't quite recognize, though he seemed to recognize him. 

"Balloon man!" he boisterously said. The man leaned back in his chair and raked his eyes over his form, succeeding in making Tadashi feel increasingly more awkward than he already was. "Met your robot friend, very friendly fella." 

Tadashi hesitantly nodded. He pulled out his designated seat and plopped into it. "That he is," he agreed with a sigh. Despite his sense of obligation to be polite, especially to someone who had just paid him a compliment, he was far too exhausted to give any sort of friendly response. If anything, his impatience mounted. He just wanted to go to sleep. 

"I know you all must be dying to get to your units, so I'll be brief," Plutarch began. He eyed each one of the participants in the discussion thoughtfully, although he seemed to spend far more time staring at Hiro than at anyone else. He leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and laced his fingers together in front of his face. "Peeta has been hijacked. This is a rare form of torture where tracker jacker venom is injected into the victim, placing them in a dissociative state. The Capitol then induces memories of a person, place or thing while causing pain to the subject, changing their perception of the object they're remembering." 

Plutarch set his sights on Tadashi. "This is where you come in, Urban. We need a medical professional who has first hand experience with the Capitol, but also is in no way associated with Katniss. Unfortunately, even being around someone who can trigger memories of the girl would be enough to set him off into another panic. " 

Tadashi nodded; weariness molded him to be compliant, though he had his doubts about the task at hand. Yes, he had been a medical professional in the Capitol, but on the rare occasions he was allowed patients, for the sake of his research, he handled minor cosmetic injuries at worst. The kind of psychological injuries the boy must have been inflicted with went beyond his entire scope of first aid knowledge. 

Hiro, seemingly unaffected by the gravity of the situation or the late hour, barked, "Why am I here, then?" 

 

Plutarch turned his attention to the younger boy. His thin lips quirked just so underneath his cheeks. His eyes sparkled with barely contained mirth. "Yes, I was getting to that. You'll be working with Urban to record any and all information, while also helping him maintain Baymax. This, along with making sure your microbots are ready for production, of course." 

If there was aggression in his tone, Tadashi would have thought it was imagined if not for the way Hiro's jaw ticked dangerously. As it was, there was a palpable discord between the two. The hair on the back of his neck rose, but he remained silent. Later, he would fix what ever mess was made in the short time he was gone. 

Outside of their respective roles in Peeta's recovery, not much else was discussed. After only a few minutes of the group exchanging comments and suggestions, none of which Tadashi had the wherewithal to listen to, they were dismissed to their home units with the instruction that they had a thirty-six hour reprieve from duty to recover.  
Tadashi was more than grateful. 

The moment they entered their room, he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto their bed, hold Hiro close, and sleep for the next day and a half. His heavy feet shuffled towards the mercy promised by his crumpled blankets, but a tight grip on his upper arm prevented his exodus from wakefulness. 

Tadashi made a noise that was unbecoming of someone his age. He turned around to stare at Hiro with pitiful eyes, accentuated by his highly knit eyebrows. He stamped his foot like a petulant child. "Sleep," he whined, elongated the word passed its established syllables. 

Hiro laughed. The sound was glorious, but lulling. If possible, it just made him crave the warmth of his affection as they fell into their dreams even more. "Come on, you big baby. You smell like victory, and I don't need that stinking up the sheets." 

Tadashi's bottom lip protruded in an exaggerated pout. "Hiro, I don't think I can stand," he complained, demonstrating his inability to remain steady by dangerously leaning against his younger sibling's hold. 

"Whoa now!" Hiro chuckled, placing his weight on his dominant foot to counteract Tadashi's act. "Then, I'll keep you up, so come on, to the shower we go." 

Hiro helped Tadashi to the bathroom by placing his arm under his shoulders and quite literally walking his elder sibling inside, all the while encouraging him with small whispers, talking him through putting one foot in front of the other until they made it outside of the shower stall. 

"Alright," Hiro huffed. "Let's get you out of those clothes." 

Distantly, internal alarm bells rang within Tadashi's head, but he ignored the hazy warning. He unzipped and unbuttoned the numerous parts of his protective clothing. After several moments of fumbling and grunting, he was down to his undershirt and boxers. That was when he noticed that Hiro was also clad in only his underwear. The previous warnings finally penetrated through the fog clouding his mind. This was leading into dangerous territory! 

Tadashi sputtered, "Wait, wait, Hiro! What are you doing?" 

Hiro cocked his head to the side. The side of his mouth quirked. "Taking off my clothes...?" he questioned. 

Tadashi's face heated almost unbearably. A sudden dizziness plagued him. His eyes flickered between Hiro's smirking face and the shower curtain next to him, unable to focus on a singular object for very long. The unsteadiness of his shuffling feet threatened to knock him to the floor. 

"H-Hiro," he stuttered, quaking nerves unsettled his words clumsily. "D-don't you think we're moving a little fast? I mean, we haven't really defined our relationship yet."

Hiro giggled underneath the hand he brought to his mouth. "Bro," he said once he lowered his palm. "First, a little presumptuous, are we?" The boy shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, I wasn't going to say 'no' if you offered, but -" 

"Hiro!" Tadashi scolded, scandalized. 

"- I was just going to help you shower, that's all," Hiro explained without missing a beat. 

Protests clogged the space within his throat. The only noise he was able to produce was something between a sigh and a whine. Giving up on his attempt to form a coherent sentence, he closed his mouth and exhaled through his nose. 

"O-okay." 

Hiro's smirk smoothed out into something warm and placid. He leaned his body into the shower and turned the dial to its "on" position. The boy ducked out before he was hit with the oncoming spray. 

Apprehension was far from Hiro's movements as he casually slipped out of his remaining garments, including his hair tie. Tadashi wasn't strong enough to keep himself from staring at the newly exposed expanse of skin in front of him. His eyes roamed over the lean muscles that made his little brother's tight form. Every groove, dip and curve was a brushstroke that crafted the work of art standing in his humble presence. For a heartbeat, he felt unworthy of admiring Hiro's surprisingly unfamiliar body. 

No matter his insecurities, Tadashi couldn't turn away. Despite his somewhat delicate sensibilities, the elder Hamada's curious gaze flitted to the point between Hiro's legs. His internal temperature rose exponentially, especially since his brother was showing at least a slight interest in what was happening around him. 

"Well," Hiro interrupted his staring. "You gonna get undressed or are you gonna shower with your clothes on?"  
Hiro's easy merriment melted Tadashi's uneasiness into delight. He couldn't stop his sense of amusement from curving his lips if he had wanted to. He cocked his head slightly to the side. His arms crossed themselves over his chest. "You're getting awfully excited to see me naked." 

Hiro merely answered with a wink before sauntering into the shower. 

Tadashi bit his lip and followed the little minx after stripping himself of the rest of his clothing. Hiro, gloriously glistening from the water cascading over his body, watched him with a predatory glint in his eye. It was a strange combination of flattering and frightening. 

He approached, slowly and deliberately, and watched for any sign of discomfort. Hiro gave no indication of anxiety, rather, the boy opened his arms, beckoning the elder Hamada to hold him. Tadashi took the invitation gladly and joined his little brother under the shower head. 

The liquid warmth felt amazing over the aches and pains his joints refused to let go of, but it was nothing compared to the bliss of feeling Hiro press himself flush to the front of his body. His slick skin sent shivers of magnificent want down the elder Hamada's spine. Tadashi sighed against the crown of his lover's head and pressed a precious kiss over the start of his bangs. 

Hiro snorted, "This is a little weird." 

Before Tadashi could react, Hiro smoothed a hand down his back, rubbing the soreness from his muscles soothingly. "I don't mean weird like awkward, but like - do you remember the last time we took a shower together? We were - what? Eight and twelve." 

Tadashi gave a small laugh as the memories of their shared childhood reeled through his head like a home movie. "Yeah. Everyone thought we were too old for that, but Aunt Cass thought it was cute." 

"If she could only see us now," Hiro said wistfully against the junction between his neck and shoulder. 

"I really would rather she not," Tadashi guffawed. 

Hiro hummed, but otherwise said nothing. The silence permeated through their moment, filling the space between them with something dark and sad. Tadashi rocked Hiro back and forth while stroking his hair away from his face. 

"I'm sorry about Aunt Cass, 'Dashi," Hiro murmured. 

Tadashi shook his head. Guilt spilled from his heart and fixed itself like cooling candlewax beneath his bones. He closed his eyes, but the visions of his aunt being shot continued to flash over the backdrop of his eyelids. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Tadashi whispered. 

"It's okay, you're with me now." 

Moments of peace passed between the two. They helped wash one another. At first, their ministrations were playful, but their shared physical endearments eventually became sensual explorations, although they were both careful to pull back before they went too far. In the meantime, they found a semblance of satisfaction in kissing. Even so, Tadashi had his concerns, which he expressed adamantly. 

"Hiro," Tadashi whispered against the other's lips. "Is this what you want? I'm not - I didn't push this on you did I?"  
Hiro giggled, "What do you mean? I dragged you in here, remember?" 

"No, I mean - before," Tadashi exhaled out. He looked away. "I've had feelings for you for as long as I can remember. Maybe you think your feelings for me are the same because you may just be subconsciously trying to please or keep me." 

The very idea tore at the seams of his heart and twisted his stomach into tight little knots, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he allowed such a thing to continue. It wasn't fair to Hiro, and it wasn't fair to him either. If they were to have a relationship, he wanted Hiro to genuinely have feelings for him, just as he had feelings for Hiro. Anything less was too toxic, too cruel. 

"I'm going to smack you," Hiro chided with a smile. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around his older brother's neck. "Tadashi, look, in a sad, but not necessarily depressing, way, we stopped being brothers when you died. I mourned your loss, and while I never really moved on, I let go of the idea of having an older brother. 

"I'll always cherish that time, but we are vastly different people than we were before. I don't have some weird hero worship for you, not anymore." Hiro placed a palm on Tadashi's cheek. His thumb rubbed a fine line underneath his eye. "I didn't fall for my brother. I fell for a kind, compassionate, way too intelligent man, who would never even think of taking advantage of his little brother. So, don't you worry about that, okay? I want to be yours." 

Hiro's confession was bittersweet. While Tadashi was relieved that his adoration for him was true, he was forced to swallow down the cold selfishness that sullied the sentiment. Unlike the younger Hamada, Tadashi never lost his brother. He was never given the luxury of grief. The distance between them had been an ever-present ache that only dulled, but never faded, over time. 

He knew that what Hiro said was true. He had even convinced himself that their shared maturity and his new identity meant that they were free of the restraints biology had placed upon them, but hearing his younger sibling say such a thing out loud was almost too much to bear. He didn't want Hiro as just a lover, he wanted his little brother back too. 

Tadashi blinked back the melancholy from his eyes. He took a deep breath to force his woe back into his heavy lungs. Despite the strain, he forced himself to smile. 

"Okay," he acknowledged with a nod. The elder Hamada leaned forward and placed a kiss on the bridge of Hiro's nose. 

\--- 

If Hiro hadn't known any better, he would have thought that sleep was a metaphysical, but certainly sentient, entity that was purposefully eluding him. The younger Hamada hadn't been as lucky as his elder sibling. Tadashi's utter fatigue had pulled him into a slumber the moment he settled onto his bed. The snores that reverberated off of their walls were a testament to the depth of his rest. Meanwhile, Hiro continued to lay awake, unable to shake off the feeling that something was wrong. 

He contemplated waking Tadashi to help him sort out whatever it was that made him feel so strange, but his conscience prevented him from reaching out and pulling him out from his much needed shuteye. Tadashi had been through quite a bit within the last forty-eight hours; he more than deserved his sleep. 

A whimper, followed by a sob, proceeded Tadashi's next snore. The sounds of his older brother's distress sent a surging wave of adrenaline throughout Hiro's body. Without a single hesitation, Hiro sat up, leaned over and shook his lover's shoulder with purpose. "Tadashi," he murmured with a near hiss. 

"Hiro," Tadashi called out. His eyes shut themselves tighter. The shoulder under Hiro's gentle hand tensed. "Hiro, please, don't go." 

Hiro's heart fell apart into several pieces and sank into the center of his body. A heaviness worked its way behind his eyes."I'm right here, you idiot. Come on, wake up," he replied, louder. 

Tadashi's eyelids fluttered open. Tears tumbled haphazardly from the bottoms of his shimmering amber orbs. The elder sibling raised his hand to his face, wiping away the evidence of his nightmare. "Hiro? What's wrong?" he croaked. 

Hiro coughed passed the lump lodged in his trachea. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" 

Tadashi simply smiled, although there was something painfully damaged about the expression. "I'm fine," he assured as the tip of his finger pushed Hiro's bangs out of his eyes and behind his ear. Tadashi's eyes drowned anew and his bottom lip wobbled dangerously, but the somber tenderness remained. 

The way Tadashi looked up at him, as though Hiro's very image troubled him, hurt in the deepest way. "Please tell me what’s wrong, 'Dashi," Hiro pleaded with a broken whisper. 

Tadashi shook his head. He continued to shower his little brother with devotion, despite the trembling of his hand. "It was just a nightmare, go back to bed."

"Easier said than done," Hiro replied with the tiniest hint of exasperation. "So, you might as well tell me why you're so upset." 

"I don't - it's fine Hiro, I just dreamt I lost you, but you're here now, so everything is okay." 

His words, however lovely, didn't disguise how decidedly not okay he appeared. 

Hiro let out a deep sigh as he ran his fingers through his long bangs. Tadashi was a stubborn one, that was for sure. He had always been one to put someone else's needs over his own, even if those needs were somewhat imagined. His older brother would never even consider disturbing someone else with his problems, even if said other person was metaphorically fighting to grapple the weight off of his shoulders. It just simply wasn't in his nature to burden others.

"The last time we slept together, there was something that was not there ~" Hiro sang unconsciously, the lyrics flowing easily from the part of his mouth without any effort or preamble. "You never wanted to alarm me, but I'm the one that's drowning now." 

The lines of Tadashi's face smoothed out. The strain at the corner of his mouth eased. His fingers stopped their shaking. His entire body exuded a level of calm that unburdened Hiro of his worry. 

"It was so like you to visit me, to let me know you were okay~" Hiro continued. He reached out and played with the hair resting above his brother's ear. "It was so like you to visit me, always worried about someone else." The younger boy chuckled, ending the song before it mellowed out into a funeral hymn. 

Tadashi hummed thoughtfully. After a heartbeat, he spoke, "You know, it was your singing that made me realize I was in love with you." 

Hiro's eyes widened a fraction. Not necessarily disbelieving, but certainly curious, he asked, "Really?" 

The elder Hamada nodded. "Yeah, when I was twelve or so, I told my class that you were my little songbird. They thought it was weird," Tadashi snickered. "Then, one girl told me that her father called her mother that. It gave me the fantasy of marrying you, having kids with you, growing old together. I knew then that it wasn't something I should have been thinking about. You're my brother. I should have wanted to be your friend, not your lover. But, I couldn't stop thinking about it no matter how hard I tried. That was when I realized I was in love with you." 

 

Hiro could practically feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He grinned so hard that the muscles of his face hurt from the exertion. He lowered his eyes bashfully, only daring to glance at his significant other through his bangs. "Well, then, I guess I know how to keep you." 

"You'll always keep me, Hiro," Tadashi admitted in a hushed tone. "I'll always be in love with you, no matter what." 

Hiro, in a fit of giddy coyness, pushed himself forward and buried his face between the junction that connected Tadashi's neck with his shoulder. "Me too," he mumbled against his throat. "I'll always be in love with you, too." 

Pleasant shivers ran down his body from where Tadashi's hands caressed his back. "How long? How long have you been in love with me?" he asked, the ghost of his words traveling over the shell of his ear. Hiro trembled. 

"Always," the younger boy said without much thought. Shame, red and hot, coiled in his stomach. The words were cheesy and tasted dry on his tongue, although they were no less true for it. Nevertheless, his teenage indignation forced him to amend his statement by adding, "I-I just. I've always loved you, but I didn't know I was 'in love' with you until you got assigned to that stupid mission to grab the victors. That's when I realized how 'unbrotherly' my feelings for you were and why I was so attracted to you." 

"Attracted, huh?" Tadashi teased. 

Hiro's hackles rose. "Shut it, nerd," he warned with a playful slap to Tadashi's shoulder. 

"No, no," Tadashi tittered. "I know what you mean. I'm not going to lie, I've checked you out quite a bit recently." The older boy's hands wandered down to the curve of Hiro's ass as if to emphasize his point. 

The younger Hamada smirked. He felt triumphant and powerful. There was something about having that kind of receptive control over his older sibling that appealed to him in a primal way. "Oh?" Hiro purred. "And what have you checked out, exactly?" 

Tadashi let out a rush of warm breath near his ear, causing Hiro to quake from the wonderful vibrations it sent through his flesh. "I've checked out lots of things," Tadashi admitted, his voice low and smooth. "Like, how utterly handsome you've grown." 

Hiro crooned, "You're not too bad, yourself." The younger Hamada used his hand to wandered down the hard plane of Tadashi's side as his lips placed tentative kisses over the skin of his lover's neck. Satisfaction burned low in his belly as his significant other gasped against his ministrations. 

However, just as the tips of Hiro's fingers reached the waistband of his brother's pajama bottoms, Tadashi took his wrist into his larger hand, stopping him from exploring further with a loose grip. In a brief moment of sudden movement, Hiro found himself on his back. Tadashi hovered over him. Disappointingly, the bigger male did not straddle Hiro's hips, but rather, kneeled beside him. 

The elder Hamada raised the younger boy's hand to his mouth. Tadashi kissed the ends of the would-be travelers. "I also noticed that it's really late, and you need to sleep," he whispered in between pecks. 

Hiro's lips curled into a sour pout, but it was only heeded to be chuckled at. Tadashi rolled onto his side and enveloped his smaller lover into his embrace. The younger sibling allowed himself to sink into the magnificent warmth of his brother's bare chest, which remedied the rather cold ribbing that had previously been administered.

Hiro, for the very first time that night, felt content enough to close his eyes and fall asleep.


	13. The Ruler and The Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen to me  
> Keep your mind on the mission  
> Remember you belong to me  
> Come on, we should get it going  
> Now what I want is specific  
> You putting on a show for me  
> The ruler and the killer baby
> 
> You don’t talk, you don’t say nothing, OK?  
> You don’t talk, you don’t say nothing, OK?  
> You don’t talk, you don’t say nothing, OK?  
> To the ruler and the killer baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can already feel the hatred.
> 
> This chapter is extremely heavy. There are mentions of flashbacks and delusions brought about by PTSD. Those who are triggered by such things should not read this chapter, but if you want to continue with the story, you are more than welcome to ask me what occurs so that you aren't confused when reading the next chapter. 
> 
> Are you ready? Let's go!

The next twenty-four hours were blissfully spent in one another's company. When Hiro and Tadashi were not partaking in each other's physical affections, they read, watched television, discussed technological ideas, and slept.

Yet, no matter how pleasant their day was, Hiro couldn't shake the wrongness that still clung to his bones. Anytime his thoughts drifted away from his constant anxiety, his stomach lurched to remind him that the unknown still lurked in the shadows of their shared future.

Hiro just hoped that, whatever it was, he and Tadashi could get through it together.

\---

In between bites of his porridge, Tadashi noticed that his tattooed schedule indicated that his first objective of the day, aside from eating his breakfast, was to report to the hospital. Given the meeting a day-and-a-half ago, his assignment was unsurprising. What did cause his eyes to pause over the marred skin of his lower arm, however, was that the room he was to report to was not in the mental health wing, as was expected.

It wasn't as if Peeta didn't have his own share of physical ailments, but he doubted that the disturbed boy would be placed in an unguarded part of the medical bay. So, it was far more likely that his first patient was not the blonde boy, but rather -

Tadashi let out a deep breath. He ran his hand over the short strands of his hair. He didn't take his eyes off of his wrist, but he didn't need to look to know that the soft touch on his shoulder was placed by Hiro.

A quiet question as to whether or not he was okay met his ear. Tadashi nodded, but not without releasing another rush of air.

"Yeah, just -" Tadashi closed his eyes, attempting in vain to prevent the rush of terrible images of his games to flood his head. He swallowed dryly. "I think my first patient of the day is someone I'd rather not see."

The touch on his shoulder turned into a slight grip. Tadashi's eyelids fluttered open. Rather than the rocky terrain of a mountainous passage meeting his sight, as he half-expected, his vision settled on a television set situated upon a column in the middle of District 13's crowded cafeteria. The elder Hamada released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He turned his head to face his younger brother, who stared at him with wide, owlish eyes and whose lips were parted ever-so slightly. After a moment, Hiro blinked and closed his mouth. He shook his head before letting out a sound of complaint. "W-who?"

Tadashi chewed on his bottom lip. He looked passed Hiro to the other occupants at their table. The nerd crew mirrored the younger Hamada's expectant look. Though he had no reasonable plans to escape the conversation, Tadashi felt an odd sense of defeat.

"Johanna Mason," he forcibly bit out.

Everyone but Hiro exchanged bewildered glances. The younger man took a deep, noisy breath through his nostrils. He pushed away the tray of food in front of him. His teeth worried his pouting bottom lip.

\---

Hiro kept his negative emotions to himself, if only to spare Tadashi the outburst. Intellectually, he knew that, at that moment, the girl posed no threat to his elder brother, but terrible memories of watching her attempt to hunt Tadashi

down came to rest at the surface of his mind. Her predatory grin, animal eyes, and glinting, blood-stained axe haunted his nightmares for months.

Hiro did not look forward to facing the girl. He looked down at his trembling wrist. Hiro was both relieved and frustrated to see that his assignment did not coincide with Tadashi's. He was to report to the lab until the afternoon. After lunch, he was to meet his older brother at the mental health ward of the hospital.

Hiro swallowed. He peered up at his brother, who had gone back to taking small bites of his food. "If she tries something, let me know." It was an empty threat, at best, but he wanted Tadashi to know that he was there for him, even if it was simply in spirit.

Tadashi directed a bright smile at him. He ruffled Hiro's hair playfully. Chuckles erupted from both boys.

\---

Tadashi forced himself to loosen the lines of his frame as he walked into Johanna's room. He resolved to at least attempt to appear as casual as he could. He didn't want to perpetuate a state of fear, one that would continuously cycle between the two of them if he continued to express his anxiety.

Baymax followed closely behind, which helped relieve some of his tension. The echoing "vip vip" sounds of vinyl rubbing together as the robotic nurse walked provided enough humor to soothe the ache in his stomach and slow the pounding of his heart.

Johanna appeared to be sleeping. Her eyelids were closed, the lashes of which rested softly against her cheeks. The features of her bruised face were smooth and placid. Each breath she took appeared stable, deep, and best of all, easy. Tadashi felt it would be a shame to wake her, considering that sleep was a rare commodity for those who suffered at the hands of the Capitol.

Regardless, he had to check her vitals to ensure that the antibiotics prescribed to cure the girl’s pneumonia were working at their current dose. Time was of the essence in that task, as mere moments could mean the difference between life and death. He delicately approached the girl's side. His trembling fingers came to rest on her bony shoulders.

Just as Tadashi moved to shake her slightly, Johanna's eyes flew open. The slim fingers of her opposing-side hand reached out and took the small of Tadashi's wrist in her grip. She held on with a force that shocked the man in her hold.

The elder Hamada pushed back his instinct to retaliate. His own hand itched to reach out and break each one of the foreign appendages that touched him. He could practically hear the sickening cracks of her tiny bones giving way under his power as his panicked mind supplied the answer to his predicament. His stomach rolled painfully.

Mercifully, after only a brief moment, the girl let go. She tsked harshly at him. "Didn't anyone in three teach you not to sneak up on people?"

Tadashi's frazzled hackles rose. "I guess manners were in short supply back home," he stated sharply. He rubbed the bruised skin of his wrist.

The girl scoffed. A smirk made its way to her thin lips. There was an oddly reminiscent mischievousness to her dulled eyes. "Guess you all are more concerned with fucking your siblings."

"Tell anyone about that and you'll wake up in the mental health ward with a different name and no idea who you are," Tadashi threatened flatly. He scared even himself with how easy the words spilled from his sneer. Despite his better conscience attempting reign him in, he barked, "Tadashi Hamada doesn't exist here."

Johanna didn't react negatively, if anything, she appeared more amused. She raised her hands. "Don't worry about a thing, Urban."

At the slight inclination of Tadashi's head, she clarified, "A nurse came in telling me to expect you. Kind of explained why no one batted an eye when you and your brother just made out in the middle of the hospital."

Tadashi raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You saw that, huh?" he asked, his clipped tone barely feigned nonchalance.

"Everyone saw that," she laughed, though the exclamation sounded forced. "At first, I couldn't believe it. You and your brother were so famous. I kept asking myself how no one else was freaking out about this. I mean, there were rumors about you two from the very start, but I just thought that if they were true, you wouldn't be so open about, and no way in hell would anyone actually condone it. But, I quickly realized that no one cared because no one knew who you were."

Tadashi nodded solemnly. He counted on the anonymity that came with his defeat. It was a sad truth, but one that he easily accepted for himself.

Johanna shook her head. Her gaze drifted down to her lap. "No one remembers the losers, only the winners," she explained. "Jokes on them, though. There are no winners."

Tadashi assumed that her sentence marked the end of their conversation, but as he turned to instruct Baymax to scan his patient, Johanna asked, "So how did you make it out of the arena?"

As difficult as it was, Tadashi made no indication that her question made the air stiff and hard to breathe. He remained stoic, though his fingers trembled and his foot fought to tap against the tile floor beneath him. His eyes scanned the data that was presented to him on Baymax's chest, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of what he was reading. Everything blurred together until a grotesque picture of his captivity formed in front of him. Distantly, he could hear himself and Hiro screaming.

"They pulled me out," Tadashi found himself whispering without meaning to. "They - um. They thought I was too valuable of an asset to lose. So, they faked my death and forced me to work for them."

A strange, bark-like sound erupted behind him. He turned his head to see Johanna grin madly to herself. She slapped her blanket-clad thighs. "That makes so much more sense!" she laughed nearly hysterically.

"What does?" Tadashi caught himself asking.

Johanna shook her head. The corners of her grin became strained as her jaw tightened. "I always thought that they killed my best friend and her family as a warning, but it makes sense now. They were punishing me for not playing my part. I was never supposed to win."

An icepick of guilt pierced his heart. It injected a cold, corrosive poison that worked its way through his veins, until he could feel nothing but the pain Johanna was forced to go through, the pain he had inadvertently caused. Tears prickled at the bottoms of his eyes. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "Don't be, you're not the one who rigged the game against the others," Johanna snapped. "Besides, I'm sure the Capitol wasn't too forgiving of your stunt in the fire."

"They forced me to hear my brother scream for hours, and I never knew if it was really him or just a trick," Tadashi explained quietly. "Days or weeks later, they would show me a video of him, but it wasn't until I got him out of three that I knew for sure that he was alright."

"Comparatively speaking, you got off easy," Johanna supplied with a small smile.

It was Tadashi's turn to laugh bitterly. "They knew I was weak. Anything more would have broken me beyond repair and I would have been useless to them."

"Don't know," Johanna said with a shrug. She eyed him quizzically. "You look pretty sturdy to me."

Despite themselves, the pair chuckled at the poor joke, cutting the tension that clung to the air.

The rest of their conversation remained easy. At times, Tadashi was reminded of how similar Johanna and Hiro were. They had their own brand of abrasive charm that was an odd combination of disarming and off-putting. No matter how tragic the reality was, it made Tadashi grateful, and not for the first time, that he had taken Hiro's place in the games. When he looked at Johanna, he saw what his little brother could have become.

Tadashi knew that Hiro would have won the Hunger Games if he had gone. Aside from being exceedingly intelligent, inconspicuous and manipulative, he was ruthless. Regardless, no one leaves the arena unscathed. He didn't want to lose his brother, whether it be to death or to madness.

God knows, Tadashi left the best parts of his soul behind in those mountains. As incomplete as he was, he would give more to ensure that Hiro remained intact and whole, if only bruised by loss.

\---

In a rush, Hiro walked passed the swishing metal doors of the robotics laboratory without much precaution to his surroundings; he had a half-formed idea to add a basic vital monitor to the microbots, and he he didn't want to lose it. In his haste to go to his drawing board, he only caught a mere glimpse of Robert Callaghan looking his way. For a moment, he wondered why the man seemed to throw a sympathetic gaze his way, but he didn't have the time or brain power to ponder on it further.

After he scanned his badge and entered his office, he came to realize what his mentor’s despondent silence was trying to convey.

Plutarch leaned against his drawing board. His arms were taut behind him, but the curve of his shoulders was relaxed. The seam of lips was curled into a lazy smile, but Hiro recognized it immediately as a rouse. His snake-like eyes were far too focused for the man to truly be carefree.

“Funny,” Hiro snorted obnoxiously, “Last I heard this was my office.”

Plutarch closed his eyes and nodded his head. “Curious how quickly things change around here?” he said once he focused his attention back on the boy; his voice was light, almost comical, but it carried something dangerous.

Hiro rolled his eyes. Beneath his breath, he growled, “What do you want? I don’t have time for your games right now. Extra duties remember?”

Plutarch pushed himself into a standing position. Hiro felt a flare of possessive rage burn through his chest; that was his drawing board the man so complaisantly used as a makeshift stand, all the while within his office. What was he even doing in here?

“No need for hostility, Hiro,” Plutarch said as he approached the boy. “I just came for an update on the microbots.”

Hiro quirked an eyebrow. His mouth slackened at the corners. He shrugged his shoulders flamboyantly. “You mean since the last time you spoke to me?” he drawled out sarcastically.

Plutarch chuckled quietly to himself. “I spoke to Beetee and Callaghan, but they didn’t seem to have any details. So, I decided to come to the source.”

Hiro stepped around the plump man. He took several hurried strides to his workstation. After pressing a few buttons on the desk’s touch screen, a holographic projection of the microbot’s schematics appeared before the pair. The younger Hamada pivoted his heel toward Plutarch. “As you can see, it’s in its beta stage of testing. Their main functionality is set, but there’s a few features that still need to be added and configured before the bots are ready to be deployed.”

“What features are those?” Plutarch asked, very obviously feigning interest while tip-toeing around what he was really after.

Annoyance prickled Hiro’s senses, causing his skin to crawl over his bones. He pressed the tip of his tongue to his cheek while tapping the top of his combat boot against the floor. “Well,” the boy growled. “A vital monitor, for one. Possibly a microphone-”

Plutarch interrupted Hiro with a raised hand. The boy’s annoyance quickly burned into anger. The robotics genius clenched the fists at his sides.

“Are any of these features necessary for military procedures?” the game maker asked smartly.

Hiro shook his head. The word “unbelievable” strained his throat. “Strictly speaking, no,” Hiro admitted truthfully, though reluctance very nearly aborted his sentence.

Plutarch bobbed his head once. “Then, strictly speaking, they’re ready,” he said with a finality that stopped any arguments from forming. “How long will it take you to create enough for a few select forces?”

Hiro clicked his tongue against his teeth. “The amount of microbots I used during the demonstration took about a week to make, so you’re looking at about a month, if not more.”

Plutarch smiled genuinely, causing Hiro's stomach to roll. “Excellent, excellent, excellent,” he said while turning towards the exit. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“You’re wrong!” Hiro snarled, unleashing the hidden wrath that boiled just beneath the surface of his flesh. “They’re not ready!”

Plutarch swiveled his head to the side to spare a peek at the boy. “Hiro, I understand that you have an issue with authority, but put that aside for a moment to look at the bigger picture. We have a limited window of opportunity while the rebel forces have the upper hand. Once we take back Panem, you’ll have all the time in the world to get creative in a lab that puts this one to shame.” With that, Plutarch walked out of his office, leaving Hiro to stew in his rage for several long moments.

If Hiro had the equipment to spare, he would have thrown something. As it was, he retained enough of his logical faculties to realize what a waste that would be. Instead, he allowed his emotions to run wetly from his eyes as his fists beat against the metallic frame of his desk.

Powerless, he felt absolutely, utterly powerless against District 13’s order. His microbots would be lesser instruments, never reaching their true potential or capability because of needless impatience.

A soft knock was heard coming from his door. Hiro rubbed at his eyes with the back of his knuckles. He twisted to face his office’s newest intruder, only to be met with his boss, who leaned his broad shoulder against the door frame. Robert Callaghan’s expression was soft, gentle, and surprisingly comforting.

“I take it your meeting with Plutarch didn’t go well?” the older man asked lightly.

A dark bubble of laughter escaped Hiro’s lips. “That’s about the understatement of the century,” Hiro coughed out. “Heavensbee wants my microbots produced before they’re ready, and there’s nothing I can say or do.”

“That’s about right,” Callaghan agreed after a moment. “Hiro, I have a few words of advice for you, although they may not make you feel better.” The man waited until Hiro raised his chin to continue. “We as scientists are often given little choice as to how our inventions are used, we just have to hope that they’ll be used for good. While I don’t necessarily trust Plutarch, I do trust District 13’s intentions, and I hope that you trust in me.”

The younger scientist breathed out a small sigh. He did trust Robert Callaghan. The older man never gave him a reason not to. He had been nothing but supportive of his endeavors from the very start. If he trusted District 13's decisions, then so did Hiro.

\---

When he arrived at their usual table during lunch, Hiro greeted Tadashi with a small peck on the cheek, which surprised no one. Nonetheless, the action was shocking due to its newness. Food left forgotten, the entire crew cheered their congratulations for the happy couple.

"Oh my gosh!" Honey cooed enthusiastically. "When did this happen?"

Tadashi felt his face heat as Hiro's cheek came to rest against his shoulder. The younger boy's hand found its way to his own and squeezed. The small token of affection should have been reassuring, but something akin to nervousness froze his lungs. Suddenly, he felt trapped. His eyes scanned the room for an exit.

"Like two days ago!" Hiro guffawed, bringing Tadashi out of his dark thoughts. "So, don't get too excited and expect a wedding invitation anytime soon."

"I don't know! This feels like a long time coming," GoGo teased from her seat next to Hiro. She punched the younger boy lightly on the shoulder.

Tadashi heard his heartbeat as though the pounding organ were pressed to his ear.

"Who do you think will propose first?" Fred asked the group mockingly.

Tadashi's skin felt sticky against his clothes, forcing him to shift uncomfortably.

Wasabi chortled heartily. "Come on, guys, can't you just be happy for them?"

Tadashi shook his head as their voices began to converge into one boisterous, ringing noise that buzzed painfully inside his head. He cried out.

"Are you okay, Urban?" someone asked, though Tadashi did not know who it was.

Before his higher thought processes could restrain his instinct to escape, he ran out of the cafeteria and down the hall. He didn't stop, even when he was met with an open elevator. He leaped into the steel cage and allowed it to descend to the hospital wing. Once he was safely deposited in the medical bay, he hastily dodged doctors and nurses as he headed to an empty hospital room.

His back met the surface of the closing automatic door. He slid down the cold metal, all the while attempting to coax himself to breathe more easily. No matter how hard he tried, however, he couldn't swallow enough air to satisfy his body. Heavy tears of fear, frustration and other emotions he couldn't place ran down the length of his face. Tadashi wiped them away as they came to rest against his shivering skin.

Hiro's declaration that they were no longer brothers continued to play on repeat, like a sickeningly cruel mantra that refused to cease. No longer was he in a hospital room in District 13, but in the Capitol, being forced to listen to Hiro's heartbreaking words blare through a speaker. Tadashi let out an anguished sob.

The door behind him opened, startling the panicked man. Tadashi whipped his upper body around and was faced with a horrified-looking Hiro. His little brother's wide, beautiful eyes shimmered.

"Tadashi, I-"

Tadashi opened his arms, beckoning his brother onto the floor to join him. In that moment, he needed the reassurance that his brother's presence provided. No, no, they weren't brothers anymore.

Without a single hesitation, Hiro dove into his embrace. Tadashi clutched at his lover and hiccuped against the top of his head.

"I'm so sorry," Tadashi whispered against his beloved's kitten-soft hair. "I'm so, so sorry. I've lost you, and I'm sorry."

Hiro shifted in his hold. Tadashi held on more firmly. "You haven't lost me, I'm right here."

"But you're not, you're not," Tadashi insisted, shaking his head. He tightened his hold.

"Tadashi, I can't breathe, let go," Hiro pleaded hoarsely. The request was silently denied. He would never let go. He couldn't let go.

Another person entered the room. Tadashi's line of sight darted to a tall, white-clad figure. It was a Capitol doctor! He knew instantly that he had come to take him away, to take Hiro away.

With a quick, fluid motion, he carried Hiro to where the their room's assigned medicine cabinet lay. He hurriedly inputted his code into the security console. The top drawer clicked open instantly. Tadashi reached in and fished out an uncapped syringe. The makeshift weapon was held out in front of Hiro.

"You won't take us!" Tadashi screamed at the doctor.

The stranger approached, but stopped when Hiro held out his hand. For a moment, Tadashi felt out of place, as though he had woken up from a lucid dream. He didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there. His vision was foggy at the corners, the only thing that kept him grounded was a soft lullaby being sung from somewhere in his arms.

The syringe fell from his loosened grasp, clattering noisily onto the floor below. Someone wearing his brother's face wrestled him down next to the flimsy weapon. The boy screamed for help, which came in the form of a looming shadow spraying a mist of some sort into his nose. Diazepam, his mind supplied before he blacked out completely.

When Tadashi awoke, he heard shouting in the distance. He recognized the voice as belonging to Peeta, and from what the former Hamada could gather, he was trying to convince someone that Katniss wasn't human, but a weapon bioengineered by the Capitol.

Tadashi knew he should be there. He was ordered to oversee Peeta's mental recovery, and it sounded as if he was having a psychotic break. With a snort, Tadashi thought that such an ailment seemed to be going around like a bad flu. He was too tired to force himself to care, so he went back to sleep.

\---

"How could you let this happen?" Plutarch screeched. His question reverberated around the war room like a booming crack of thunder, but Hiro was not dissuaded.

He stood abruptly from his seat and stomped over to the man. His combat boots clicked in steady rhythm, as though the cadence were a warning, like a snake shaking its rattle before striking. Boggs read the signs, and stepped between Hiro and Plutarch. He blocked Hiro's path with a thick arm.

"Let it go, soldier," the officer commanded.

It was far, far too late. Unable to control his fury, the robotics expert lunged. Boggs' hold was the only thing keeping Hiro from wrapping his hands around Plutarch's throat and squeezing the life out of him. "You son of a bitch!" Hiro snarled. "How could I? How could you? A history of post-traumatic stress disorder, nightmares and delusions without so much as a required psych evaluation? You ordered him into combat without any plans for treatment? How fucking stupid are you?"

"Hiro," Coin began calmly from her seat at the main table. The lines around her lips deepened, but the rest of her demeanor remained poised, authoritative. She folded her hands in front of her. "Urban's medical history is strictly confidential, no matter your relationship with him."

A disconcerting serenity settled over Hiro's frame. He slumped forward into Boggs' arms. The security personnel helped steady the younger man.

Hiro placed his hands on his hips. He nodded before coughing out a single mirthless laugh. "Guess so, which is why I had to find out from the doctor he tried to kill, but y'know, let's be more concerned with who I'm fucking."

Plutarch's face scrunched itself into an unrecognizable expression. It was an odd combination of anger, frustration and disgust. "You were the last one to be with him, alone, before he went off the deep end," he hissed beneath his breath.

"He was already off the deep end, and I had to be the one to save him from drowning, asshole!"

"Enough!" Coin demanded, banging her hands on the table. More diplomatically, she added, "The damage has been done. For now, we have to focus on his recovery, which means I have to bar you from seeing him, Hiro."

"What?" Hiro questioned indignantly. "You can't do that!"

"Yes, I can. There will be a security detail posted at all times around his room. You will not be allowed within ten feet of his room, is that understood?"

Coin's intense stare tore the air from Hiro's lungs. Without question, the younger Hamada nodded.

"Understood."


	14. Shooting Arrows At The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HE didn't want it but didn't recognize the call  
> I don't believe it, they'll write the ending for us all  
> Thinking about it, the capturers around us all  
> So I'll build me a bubble to build what I know will hold 
> 
> I know you did and I know, hero  
> I know you did it and I know, for what?  
> I know you did it and there's no way I could  
> But it will hold me down, I'm waiting for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for depression and suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> Thanks to Lipox24 and Kiff44 for beta-ing this chapter! We actually had a huge, late night Skype discussion about this chapter during the editing process. Let's just say, I didn't realize the extent of how evil my betas were until then. Don't worry. I'm not that mean.

For thirteen days, Hiro had tried and failed to reach Tadashi. Each ill-fated attempt was met with an apology from Boggs' in some way. The commanding officer would always look or sound genuinely sympathetic towards the boy's plight, but the result was always the same: no communication in or out of Tadashi's room.

Cruelly, Hiro wasn't even allowed to approach the medical staff to inquire on Tadashi's status. Baymax and Prim were also barred from the hospital room, as they were potential entry points for Hiro's presence. So, the only information he received was what he could stubbornly force out of command. As far as he was made aware, Tadashi was still recovering from his psychological injuries. No further information would be provided.

Tadashi's absence had taken a toll on his health. He hardly slept, his food was given away, and he spent hours working on his microbots without a break. At least his work had not suffered for it; Hiro was very accustomed to working grueling hours without so much as a trip to the restroom. This pleased both Plutarch and Callaghan.

The two men were not without a heart, however. Callaghan often visited the boy to simply offer encouraging words. Plutarch, on the other hand, became gentler with his demands, and had even apologized for his actions.

"Truly, Hiro, I didn't want this to happen," he had said to him privately, in his office, on the sixth day of his supposed punishment. Despite the interruption, Plutarch's puzzling sincerity compelled Hiro to stop his work and stare intently at the man, giving him his full, undivided attention."I suggested that you both take a break from each other, but I didn't think it would be to this extent."

"Then tell Coin to lift the ban," Hiro had growled beneath his breath. 

Plutarch had sighed deeply in response. "You don't think I have?" he then asked, looking directly into Hiro's eyes. "Coin wouldn't have it, God knows why. Your moping isn't exactly useful to anyone."

Afterwards, Hiro had the distinct feeling that Plutarch was more concerned with Coin's power play than his part in Tadashi's banishment, but it was worth the second thought. Hiro almost felt relieved knowing that Plutarch wasn't the one pulling the strings after all.

\---

Tadashi knew, without a doubt, that his doctor meant well. Despite this knowledge, he couldn't help but feel somewhat annoyed whenever the would-be psychologist verbalized how safe he should be feeling.

"You're safe here, Urban."

"Urban, you are safe."

"Do you feel safe?"

No, no, he didn't feel safe, and that is what his counterpart would never understand. Tadashi would never feel safe again.

He wasn't sure he ever felt safe. Growing up in the districts, it was impossible to feel secure. Each day brought about a new onslaught of horrors wrought down by a tyrannical government that felt no mercy for its people. The one and only hope he had was that he could somehow create a better world for his people, for his little brother.

Tadashi's people were dead or dying, and the little brother he had once loved was taken away from him.

Every day without Hiro chipped away at his being. Hopelessness hollowed out his soul. It spared him from anxiety, from sadness, but it also emptied him of anything else. Never before had he wanted to die, but at that moment he no longer cared if he lived.

Tadashi pawed at a tear that fell from his eye, but he said nothing to his doctor. He continued to sit in silence in front of the other man, who droned on and on, though he didn't know what about. His words blended together into an unintelligible mishmash. The only sound that filtered properly through his ears was the slow, steady beeping of his heart monitor.

\---

The beeping sound of Hiro's vibrating communicator cuff reverberated throughout his office, cutting through the whirling of his 3D printer, which had become a constant racket in the room for the last two weeks. Hiro straightened his back and yawned before tapping on the message that awaited him.

"Ready to get out of District 13? - BT"

For a moment, he simply blinked at the words. Get out of District 13? He had no idea what Beetee could possibly mean. There would be no escape from his subterranean imprisonment until the end of the rebellion.

"? - H" he simply typed back.

Nearly instantaneously, he received a response of, "Volunteer assignment to District 2. You should come."

As if on cue, a message from command appeared on his screen. He was to report to the war room for details on a special mission, if he should elect to take it.

Hiro glanced at the 3D printer.

\---

Tadashi awoke to a middle-aged, slightly haggard, blonde man sitting beside him. It took him a few heartbeats to recognize the stranger as the same one who complimented him on Baymax a few weeks ago. His expression was friendly, but the corners of his lips were incredibly strained, as though the very action of smiling was exhausting.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," he teased with a whisper.

Tadashi swallowed dryly. "Hello. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting, well, outside of a group meeting, that is." The younger man attempted to chuckle, but it was more akin to coughing than anything else.

The man snickered to himself. "I don't suppose you remember meeting me four years ago," he started breathlessly, "I bumped into you on accident and almost threw up all over your shoes. You helped me find a place to sit and brought me a goddamn cup of water."

The narrative sparked a memory. It came in flashes of color, but it was there, niggling at the back of his mind. The man had nearly stumbled into Tadashi's arms on the way to a silver encased elevator. He helped the stranger sit on one of the maroon-colored chairs stationed in the stark-white lobby of the building. The cup he handed the blonde was the same gaudy maroon color as the couch, and for whatever reason, that had frightened him. In fact, everything about the memory was tinged with anxiousness.

Suddenly, the name "Haymitch Abernathy" rang through his skull like an alarm. He was the mentor for the District 12's tributes. If that was the case, then they must have met in the tribute center during his time training for the Hunger Games. 

Tadashi willed his expression to remain stoic. He shook his head slightly. "I don't remember, I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you don't, Tadashi," Haymitch said with a wink. "But, I've got a message from Primrose about your brother ." 

Tadashi pushed himself up to a sitting position. Frantically, he asked, "Is he okay?" His doctor would tell him nothing of his brother, only that he was ordered to stay away from him for the time being. It was for Hiro's safety, Tadashi had reasoned. Not that Hiro would be unsafe around him. Even unhinged, Tadashi doubted he could ever truly harm his brother.

Haymitch calmed him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The kid is fine, for now," he explained. "But they've got him going to District 2."

Tadashi's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. His lungs burned as panic tore the air from them. With little forethought, his bare feet hit the floor. He attempted to stand, but was stopped by Haymitch's hand landing on the meat of his shoulder after swiftly standing from his seat. 

"Whoa there, buddy," he exclaimed. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I have to -" Tadashi paused to catch a breath that wouldn't come. "I have to stop him! That's an active warzone!"

"Look, I don't know what good you think you'll do running out there, but if they find out that I even mentioned the world outside this room, they'll put me and you in solitary confinement," Haymitch explained with a stern tone. A notch settled between the man's eyebrows. "Now, look, Hiro will be fine. He's just the brains of the operation, no active combat, no nothing, but we figured that you would want to know."

Tadashi's legs collapsed from under him. Fortunately, he fell back against his bed. The elder Hamada was able to pull himself back to his previous position, but just barely. A lethargy, the likes of which he had never known, seeped into his already weary bones.

"Thanks for letting me know," he said with a nod. He closed his heavy eyes and fell asleep.

His dreams were filled with gunfire and screaming children.

\---

 

Arriving at District 2, Hiro was unnerved by the mountainous terrain that greeting him. It gave him a sense of claustrophobia that even the cylindrical prison of District 13 hadn't. He felt an odd combination of surrounded and exposed. He could run, but there was nowhere to hide.

"The brains", as his group was called, reported to a tent where the leader for the rebellious forces of District 2 waited for them. Lyme, a tall, middle-aged, muscular woman, had been a previous victor of the Hunger Games. Her time spent in the arena hardened her, preparing her nerves for war. The irony that the Capitol had been the one to shape her for combat against them did not escape the young robotics genius.

The situation that Lyme described to the group was a microcosm for the entirety of the rebellion. District 2 was considered a high-class district. The Capitol took care of the military personnel that were stationed in the central town, but the surrounding villages were as well-kept as any of the other districts. While the peacekeepers and soldiers there were clothed, fed and given shelter, the miners that kept up the stockade of weapons within the mountain had to fend for themselves. When the fever of revolution swept through the district, those who were privileged were immune to its effects while the downtrodden had taken up arms. At that moment, the district was amidst its own small civil war.

It was the brains' job to put an end to it, to claim the whole of District 2 for the rebellion. It was no easy feat. As Plutarch had stated, it was a tough nut to crack.

After their meeting, the brains were given leeway to explore their new surroundings. Gale patted Hiro on the shoulder before hopping away excitedly to an unknown corner of the district. Meanwhile, Beetee wheeled himself up to Hiro as the boy walked out of the tent and to the house he would be staying in.

"Are you okay? Really?" the man asked as they continued on their way.

Hiro chuckled. "No, but, I can't do anything about it. I think that's the point of sending me here."

Beetee shook his head. "You're here because you're needed here."

Needed here, Hiro thought to himself. More to the point, the powers-at-be had deemed him more essential to District 2 than to District 13. His printers don't need his constant approval to continue, and quality control could be taken over by anyone else. If anything, his ghost-like presence was a hindrance.

Hiro stopped when a sudden thought struck him. Beetee paused his wheeling. "They're trying to get rid of me," the younger boy said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. Furiously, he added, "They think I'm a distraction. Urban is far more useful to them than I am. I've served my worth." 

"Hiro," Beetee said quietly, calmly. He gently took the small of his wrist into his hand. "Hiro, that isn't true. Even as devious as they are, you still have more inventions stored in that brain of yours. It wouldn't make any sense for them to get rid of you." 

Hiro said nothing. He couldn't decide if he agreed or disagreed with Beetee. While he'd like to think that his station was assured in District 13, he couldn't actually see himself coming out the other end of the rebellion.

\--- 

The head doctor released Tadashi the morning after Hiro's departure, which didn't surprise the disappointed young medic. He was to rest for another few days. Until he was deemed fit for active duty again, he was only to report to the mess hall for food and the hospital for daily therapy sessions.

Too ashamed to face his friends, Tadashi sat next to Primrose for his first meal. The young girl smiled and spoke quietly, yet enthusiastically, about the progress she was making with her medical training. Tadashi did his best to seem happy for the girl, but her bright eyes reminded him too much of Hiro's when he was excited about his newest project or idea.

His pain must have been evident, because she trailed off mid-sentence. Her smile didn't waver, but her eyes softened. A small hand took Tadashi's shoulder. "Hiro is okay. I was told everyone landed safely yesterday."

"I know - I just," Tadashi looked away. It was true, he was worried for Hiro's safety, but more than that, he was worried about what would happen when he came back home. What would he say? What would he do? He had scared him so badly. What if Hiro didn't want to be around him anymore? What if he lost the last connection to him he had?

Perseptive, Prim answered his silent questions, "Hiro tried everyday to get a hold of you. No one would let him near you. He misses you just as much as you miss him. He'll be so happy to see you when he comes back."

 

The words were a great comfort. They reassured the flustered man. Without anything else to speak about, Tadashi filled the empty air between them by asking, "How's everything with Peeta?"

Prim gulped audibly. Her fork pushed the food on her plate away. "I tried to hijack him back, but he just went into a fugue state. When he came out of it - well, it was obvious we hadn't made any progress."

Tadashi felt a mixture of frustration, guilt and sadness at the news. He was supposed to help Peeta. Instead, he was banished to his corner of District 13, not to have contact with anyone. He cursed his weakened mind.

\---

The meeting commenced bright and early the next morning. The brains, which included Beetee, Callaghan, Gale, Boggs, Katniss and a few others he didn't quite recognize, converged at District 2's Justice Building to discuss how to take "The Nut", as the weapons storage facility was henceforth dubbed.

For hours, they reviewed every blueprint of the fortified mine. Everyone contributed what they could to the discussion. Hiro had even suggested storming the entrances of the mountainous passageways with the microbots they had been brought with them, as that was their intended purpose, but that tactic was shot down. They had already tried and failed to take the entrances, and Lyme was unwilling to lose more men to a strategy that wouldn't work.

Hiro was insistent, and it was obviously taking a toll on Lyme's patience. The moment Hiro opened his mouth to counter yet again, she blurted out, "The next person who suggests we take the entrances better have a brilliant way to do it, because you're going to be the one to lead the mission!" 

Gale stood from his seat abruptly. He walked over to Hiro and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The gesture was strikingly familiar. The way his body fit next his reminded him of his brother, and the thought made him feel sick to his stomach. A pang of longing pierced his chest.

Gale released the boy and made his way to the windowsill Katniss sat upon. He looked out to the Nut thoughtfully. "Is it so necessary that we take the nut? Or would it be enough to disable it?"

Hiro's eyebrows rose at the suggestion. That was a thought. It wouldn't help stock District 13's weapon supply, but if they cut off the Capitol from theirs, then the extra missiles and hovercraft would be superfluous anyway. Beetee nodded, as if in agreement with Hiro's thoughts.

"That would be a step in the right direction," Beetee said. "What did you have in mind?"’

Gale breathed deeply through his nose. He turned his head toward the group to eye everyone in the room. He chewed on his bottom lip. "Think of it as a wild dog den," he said after a heartbeat. "You're not going to fight your way in. So you have two choices. Trap the dogs inside or flush them out."

Lyme argued back against his plan, stating that bombing the entrances would do them no good, as those residing within the mountain were in far too deep. So, there would be no flushing them out. The only other alternative was trapping the Capitol soldier's inside the mountain.

A plan was discussed to trigger mudslides that would bury the exits and trap the men inside the mine, but Boggs quickly pointed out that the mine's ventilation system was rudimentary at best. If all of the entrances were blocked, than the people inside the Nut would surely suffocate to death. Beetee countered that those inside could escape through the train tunnel that had once been used to transport supplies in and out of the mine, but Gale stated, "Not if we blow it up."  
That was when Hiro realized that Gale had no intention of allowing anyone to leave the mine. This was a hunter's tactic. This was a death trap.

The image of Tadashi that had been placed over Gale's form disappeared and was replaced with Urban's. No longer portraying the caring older brother, he was the ruthless strategist, a soldier, a man whose ambition to bring down the Capitol shadowed his humanity.

Hiro wanted to feel horrified. He wished he could be disgusted. Instead, he felt nothing but cold satisfaction. He agreed with Gale's assessment, "We'll never be able to trust them again."

"They should at least have a chance to surrender," Lyme countered sharply.

Gale crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at the leader with an expression that was equal parts offense and disbelief. "Well, that's a luxury we weren't given when they firebombed Twelve, but you're all so much cozier with the Capitol here." 

 

Lyme's eyes narrowed at the boy. The muscles in her arms tensed. Her fingers clenched until her hands were balled into tight fists. For a second, Hiro was afraid the woman would reach for her pistol to shoot him.

When she said nothing, he insisted, "We watched children burn to death and there was nothing we could do!"

Hiro flinched. Even having just seen the bodies in one of Katniss' propos had been enough to send him reeling. He couldn't imagine watching the event actually take place, utterly helpless, unable to do anything more than hope that you weren't next to die.

Katniss complained that sabotaging the mountain's infrastructure would be like causing a coal mining accident. Gale was quick to shut her argument down, reminding her to be objective rather than the daughter of a coal miner killed in an accident.

Hiro's thoughts turned to Tadashi. What would he think if their plan involved blowing up a laboratory? The boy shuttered. 

After another round of debate, it was decided that rather than trapping the miners inside, they would block all access points with the exception of the train tunnel. Not only did that ensure that the Capitol would no longer have access to their heavy arsenal, but it would force those inside into the town's main square, where rebel fighters would be waiting for them. Anyone would be allowed to surrender to their custody, given that they didn't shoot first.

Only one question remained: when could they get started?

\---

Tadashi exited his doctor's office after another unsuccessful therapy session, and nearly collided with Baymax's bulging stomach. He looked up to see that his healthcare companion returned his inquisitive stare. "Hello, Urban."

Tadashi's lips curled into an unabashed grin. He felt elation bloom in the hollow of his center. If it wasn't for how public their venue was, Tadashi would have hugged his invention at that moment. "Hey, Big Guy! It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

Baymax cocked his head to the side and blinked. "It has been fourteen days, thirteen hours -"

Tadashi interrupted the robot with a chuckle and wave of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, it's just an expression. You use it when you haven't seen someone in a long time," Tadashi explained with a chirp to his voice.

"I will add this expression to my language bank," Baymax replied simply.

From behind the inflatable robot, there was an exasperated call of, "There you are!"

Tadashi leaned his body to one side to peer down the hallway. Running up the walkway was a breathless, red-cheeked Prim. Once she was at Baymax's side, she stopped and took a deep gulp of air.

"Sorry," she apologized after catching her breath. "We were testing his scanner and I guess he caught a whiff of you."  
"I am a robot, I cannot smell."

Prim smiled up at her artificial assistant as though he were a young child. "It's just an expression, Baymax."

"He's learning a lot of those, today," Tadashi barked with mirth. "Where were you guys headed?"

"Peeta's room," she explained, pointing down the hallway to his right.

Curiosity and optimism peaked, the young medic asked,"Did you come up with any new ideas?"

Prim's lips tightened over her face. "No," she responded solemnly. "We were actually planning on doing some brainstorming in the observation room." A sudden light brightened her expression. "You should come. Maybe you can think of something we haven't."

A heaviness settled on Tadashi's chest. His eyes turned away from the girl in front of him. A hand came to rub the sweat-slick skin of his neck. "I'm not supposed to be on duty until my doctor gives me a clean bill of health."

"I'm sure just observing would be okay," Prim offered mildly.

Tadashi was glad for the suggestion. So badly did he want to be there to help. He felt useless being cooped up in his room with nothing to do but read and watch television. Nevertheless, with nothing else to occupy his mind, his thoughts constantly turned to his younger brother, which only added to his mental anguish. He didn't look forward to more hours spent attempting to rid himself of the same cycle of horrible premonitions that he feared would come to pass. Maybe, just maybe, Prim was right, and there would be no harm in simply observing the poor boy.

Tadashi nodded. "Okay, let's go."

\---

That evening, after District 13 approved their plan, it was set in motion. The brains stood atop the Justice Building to watch their strategy unfold. Bombs descended from the rebel's hovercraft, detonating over the fragile points of the mountain, causing mudslides to cascade over its side as though the disturbed earth were merely water. It was beautiful, in a destructive, catastrophic way.

Hiro blinked as a memory began to take shape. It was of his brother running to him. He looked so big and imposing, but the softness of youth still clung to his cheeks, arms and legs. He cried, fat tears rolling over of his face like the mud sliding over the entrances of the mine before him.

"Mom and dad aren't coming back home," Tadashi sobbed against him, holding him so tight. "I'm so sorry."

Hiro cried, too, but only as a response to his brother's sorrow. He was still too young to form the coherent notion of loss. However, he was old enough to understand that his beloved brother was hurt. As he clung onto Tadashi's soaked shirt, he sang to him in an effort to soothe his pain.

A pain he allowed District 2 to inflict on hundreds of others in a matter of moments.

Hiro stared down at his combat boots. He wasn't anything like his brother. The boy didn't even feel human anymore.

"What have you done?" his brother's voice said from far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you catch any mistakes, let me know with a comment! Critique is always warmly accepted. Kudos give me life. Thanks!


	15. The Hanging Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you, are you  
> Coming to the tree?  
> Where dead man called out  
> For his love to flee.  
> Strange things did happen here  
> No stranger would it be  
> If we met at midnight  
> In the hanging tree.
> 
> Are you, are you  
> Coming to the tree?  
> Wear a necklace of hope,  
> Side by side with me.  
> Strange things did happen here  
> No stranger would it be  
> If we met at midnight  
> In the hanging tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can already feel the delicious hatred coming my way for this chapter. [insert evil cackle] 
> 
> I have been on a roll with writing these upcoming chapters lately, mostly because I just absolutely adore this part of the book. Having the excuse to re-read the corresponding chapters in "MockingJay" has been an excellent motivation. 
> 
> Normally, I would update on Monday afternoon, but considering how excited I am to see people's reactions, I have decided to update a little early! Also, as an added note, I try my very hardest to make this fic as accessible as possible to people who have not read or seen the movie. However, if there is something I'm not explaining properly, or that you need clarified, let me know! I will be more than happy to explain.
> 
> [Edit] I just realized I uploaded the unedited document. Fixed a lot of mistakes!

A soft sob erupted from somewhere near Hiro. At first, the young boy thought it had come from him, but the pads of his fingers remained startlingly dry after he caressed the skin of his cheeks. The weight in his stomach grew.

He looked to his side to see that Katniss, the Mockingjay, the girl on fire, the symbol of the rebellion, the figurehead of the cause, was the one weeping as she witnessed the destruction before her. Weeks earlier, he may have throttled the girl for her absolute insolence in the face of the damage she had wrought, but as it stood, he knew she didn't want this. She didn't want any of this. The same words that ran through Hiro's head must have run through her's as well. 

_What have we done?_

"Come on," Boggs whispered in Hiro's ear. "We need to get inside in case the Capitol tries to retaliate." 

Hiro knew that fear, instinct, or adrenaline should have guided him back through the rooftop door, but instead, the process was automatic, initiated by Boggs' input. He felt like a machine, doing only what was commanded of him, nothing more. 

His trembling legs led him down the marble staircase and into the main lobby. Katniss took a seat underneath an imposing stone pillar, and he was tempted to join her. After a brief moment's thought, he decided against it. He didn't know what he would say or do in her presence, and while he no longer hated her, he didn't necessarily like her either. There was no point in making the situation between them worse. 

Hiro pivoted on his heel. He made his way down the decorated hallway of the structure, passing by photographs, awards and other framed accolades. They all had a faux quality to them, merely physical manifestations of the lies fed to the people of District 2 by the Capitol. He tore his eyes away from them and forced himself to continue onwards until he reached a communal room at the very end of the corridor. 

Hiro didn't need to speculate on what the room was used for; he already knew for certain. It was the same kind of circular, ornate, dark room used in District 3 to hold tributes prisoner before they were carted off to the Capitol. 

Even the cherrywood desk in the middle of the circle appeared to be standard issue. He knew every detail of it's intricate woodwork by heart. Hiro's fingers traced the same carvings Tadashi had leaned against for support the day he was taken from him. The robotics genius felt bile rise in his throat, but it didn't stop him from rounding the desk, feeling every dip and groove in the wood he could reach. 

An artificial squeaking rolled into his ears. Hiro paused his actions to face the doorway. Beetee wheeled into the room slowly. His facial features were placid, but the frame of his body was pulled back with caution, as though he were approaching a skittish colt. "Hiro?" he called out softly. 

Beetee's voice broke the dam containing the river of emotions within. Everything he had ever felt burst through the cracks in his soul. The flood cascaded over him until his lungs filled with his sorrow, his longing, his shame. He cried out as he fell to his knees. 

His screams would not stop, even as Beetee's hands found their way to his shoulders. Only when his voice became raw from overuse did he begin to babble words, "How can I face him, Beetee? I killed people! I thought I could do it. I thought I could kill the Capitol's people but - Oh God, what have I done? These people were slaves to them, too, just like my parents, and I killed them for it." 

"Hiro," Beetee attempted to calm him. "Most of them will get out. The tunnel is still open." 

Images of people running to the emergency exits, clambering over one another to escape the fire, the dirt, the suffocating darkness, flashed through his head. He sobbed in response. 

"What we did was terrible, but necessary," Beetee went onto explain. "We saved rebel lives today." 

The thought didn't comfort Hiro. 

\--- 

Tadashi stared through the observation window into Peeta's room. The blonde was sleeping in his bed, which according to Prim, was unusual. Typically, he would pace the perimeter of his room, like an animal trapped in a cage. 

Tadashi couldn't blame him. His room was a small perfect square. It looked more akin to a prison cell than a hospital room. The bed still had restraints hanging at its sides, an ominous warning against misbehaving. 

A sinking hopelessness pulled at his lungs. How could they remake someone who was so broken? So far gone? 

_How can you remake yourself?_

Tadashi shook his head to dislodge the voice hiding within the recesses of his mind. He would find a way to remake himself because he had to - for Hiro. For as long as he lived, he would never willingly hurt his beloved brother. That devotion was something the Capitol could never take away from him. 

A spark of inspiration hit Tadashi then. The Capitol warped Peeta's memory of Katniss, but they couldn't have possibly tainted everything.

"Are there any clips of Katniss that didn't air? Something that the Capitol doesn't have?" Tadashi asked excitedly, animated by his idea. He turned toward the group, which consisted of Prim, Haymitch, Plutarch and a plethora of doctors sitting at a round table. 

"The propo with Katniss singing 'The Hanging Man'," Plutarch responded thoughtfully. He rubbed the bottom of his chin."Parts of it were edited out and others were cut off before they even aired. Why do you ask?" 

Optimism filled Tadashi. He nodded at Plutarch in acknowledgment. His lips formed an unabashed grin. 

"I think I found a new angle," Tadashi said, gesturing wildly with his hands. He walked towards the table. He rounded its circumference as he spoke to each member of the recovery team. "We've been going at this the wrong way. We've been trying to take back what the Capitol stole. Instead, we have to build him back up with what we do have. Show him clips of Katniss that the Capitol couldn't have shown him, see if he remembers something of her on his own." 

Plutarch smiled broadly. He gave the boy an approving nod. "Brilliant." 

\--- 

Gale burst into the room Hiro and Beetee were stationed in. The young genius had his head against the elder man's thigh. He allowed his mentor to run soothing fingers through the strands of his hair. 

"Hiro," Gale called out breathlessly. "We could really use you out there, the fighting is getting pretty close to the square." 

Hiro closed his eyes and shook his head. He had no will to fight the men trying to escape the mine he allowed to collapse. His hands were already stained with enough blood. "I'm sorry, Gale," Hiro whispered. 

Gale sighed through his nose. He looked away. A heavy hand collided with the door frame. "Okay," Gale said, tight-lipped and defeated. 

"I'll go," a hoarse voice came from the hallway. Gale stepped aside to allow Callaghan to appear at the entrance to the room. "Hiro, your microbots, may I use them? I believe I can do a lot of good out there with them." Callghan's gray eyes were hard with determination. His mouth was set into a firm line. At his sides, the man's fists clenched. 

Hiro hesitated. He trusted Callaghan with his life, but was he in any physical shape to fight? His body seemed sturdy, but the withered lines that ran alongside his eyes and lips caused the younger man to pause. Gale, however, seemed enraptured by his conviction. The younger soldier nodded his head towards Hiro. 

Hiro relented with a rush of breath, "If that's what you want to do." 

Wordlessly, Gale and Callaghan ran down the hall in quick succession. 

\--- 

After an hour or so, a video featuring all the clips that the Capitol did not have in their possession was produced for Peeta's viewing. However, a slight debate as to who would present the footage to the boy emerged from the recovery team. He had shown signs of being distrustful to the usual herd of doctors, and they feared that this mistrust could muddle their results. They didn't want to waste the only good strategy they had left if the execution would fail due to such external factors. 

Plutarch suggested that Tadashi be the one to complete the task, but the young medic questioned the tactic with a sharp, disbelieving, "Me?"

"Yes, you. You're the perfect candidate," Plutarch explained incredulously. He sat back in his seat and eyed the young man. "You're charming. You have zero ties to Katniss. You came up with the idea." 

Tadashi's eyebrows disappeared underneath his bangs. His mouth opened and remained so without producing any words. He didn't know what to say to counter him, though he was certain that what he suggested was a bad idea. He was still recovering from his own trauma, after all. Tadashi was still unaware of his own triggers; who was to say an episode of Peeta's couldn't cause one of his own? 

Regardless, a few moments later, he was given a disk and sent into Peeta's room. The blonde was awake when Tadashi entered the blindingly lit room, but he remained in his bed. His stillness and silence unnerved the older man. Peeta's narrowed eyes penetrated through Tadashi’s serene exterior. Dread churned the medic’s stomach. 

Tadashi’s features remained warm and friendly. His smile was small and, he hoped, disarming. He willed his movements to be natural, fluid, and unhesitant. 

"Hi, I'm Urban," Tadashi introduced himself as he closed the door softly behind him. "It's an honor to meet you, Peeta." 

"No it's not," Peeta cut in sharply. His features twisted into something animalistic. "You think I'm crazy, like all the others." 

Tadashi worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He cast his gaze away from the other man. Again, he found himself defenseless against another's word, but he was not deterred. He continued to approach Peeta until he reached the chair that was sitting beside his bed. 

Tadashi plopped into the seat. "I'm going to tell you a secret, okay?" he said smoothly. He didn't give the younger boy a chance to answer. "I was literally in the next room over until just yesterday. I had an episode where I hurt someone I cared about unitentionally. I am far from judging you.” 

Peeta’s expression twisted into something unrecognizable. He gave the impression that he was fighting against himself. A hum escaped his throat. “Did they forgive you? The person you hurt - I mean.” 

Tadashi was taken slightly aback. He didn’t expect that question. He predicted that Peeta would fight him, argue back that he didn’t hurt anyone he personally cared for, that he was only trying to do the right thing by attempting to kill Katniss. It was what he screamed time and time again during the two weeks Tadashi was forced to remain in his solitary confinement. 

A bittersweet idealism filled him; either their treatment was slowly working, or something within the boy was trying to wrestle free. Either way, this meant he could be saved. 

Tadashi took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he exhaled. “He left on a mission and he hasn’t come back yet. I hope so, though.” 

Peeta nodded. The corner of the boy’s lips turned in what appeared to be a smile. “I think he will. I think he knows you wouldn’t hurt him on purpose.” 

“I hope so,” the older man muttered. The hollow point in Tadashi’s chest throbbed. To try to remedy the ache, he halted his terrible premonitions of the future and focused on the task given to him. “ Um, anyway, I have something we should watch together.” 

Tadashi sprang away from his seat and made his way over to the flatscreen television set that was mounted on the opposite wall. He inserted the disk into the media reader on the machine’s right side. With only a second’s hesitation, he pressed the “play” button. Nearly instantaneously, Katniss’ singing filtered into the air. 

Peeta remained, surprisingly, stable. More so, the tension that had pulled at the lines of his face melted away. His visage was no longer strained by madness, but serene. "I - I know this song," he murmured beneath his breath. 

On the screen, Katniss sat by a small babbling brook. The sun lovingly caressed her face. Lyrics softly spilled from her smiling lips. It was the first time Tadashi had ever seen the girl look so carefree. In all of the other propaganda produced, she was made to be a hardened soldier, eternally ready for combat. Sickeningly, Tadashi was reminded that Katniss Everdeen was no soldier, no rebel, she was just a young girl. 

\--- 

Hiro awoke beside his mentor's legs when Katniss' voice boomed throughout the halls of their sanctuary. "People of District 2, this is Katniss Everdeen speaking to you from the steps of your Justice Building -" 

He blinked away the sleep that fogged his eyes. His muscles protested weakly against the movements used to sit up. Grogginess clung to the corners of his brain. It took several moments, but as he came to full wakefulness he realized that Katniss' speech was interrupted by - something. 

A sudden succession of deafening thunder filled his ears, rattling his skull with its vehement boisterousness. Each crack that filled the air around the Justice Building caused Hiro's body to twitch instinctively. He covered his ears, but it only muffled the noise minutely. 

He whipped around to face his mentor, whose eyes and mouth were set impossibly wide. Beetee's head swiveled around wildly. 

As quickly as it started, the noise stopped. Through the speakers setup outside, Katniss could be heard yelling, "Stop! Hold your fire!" 

Fire. Gunfire. 

Hiro gasped. Before his higher thought process could stop him, he raced down the hallway and to the lobby. Beetee's voice trailed behind him, commanding him to stop, but his cursed imagination plagued him with images of Katniss shot, bloodied, dead before his feet. He couldn't allow that to happen. 

Hiro reached the opened door of the main entrance. The night outside was blanketed by darkness, but he could still make out the scene in front of him through the shadows. Just passed the steps leading inside, Katniss stood before a kneeling, injured man. A crude, rust-colored bandage was held over the left side of his face. The rest of his skin was gritty with soot, making him look as though he had been charred. In his right hand, he trained the barrel of his gun at her face. 

The robotics genius held a hand over his mouth to keep himself from making a noise. The situation was precarious. Katniss walked along a tightrope between life and death. One wrong move and she would fall to her doom. 

By the way the girl held her bow high in the air away from the man, Hiro knew she had no intention to retaliate against his threat. 

"Give me one reason I shouldn't shoot you!" The man nearly pleaded with a voice that was both rough and heavy. The gun in his shaking hand rattled noisily. 

Hiro held back a sigh as relief washed away the adrenaline from his flesh. It was obvious that this man didn't want to shoot the girl. He was no soldier. He had no taste for bloodshed or war. The desperate fear in his eyes was evident even from where the boy stood. Katniss could live through this. 

"I can't," she whispered. 

Hiro's panic bloomed anew. What was she saying? There were thousands upon thousands of reasons for why the girl should live. He felt his knees bend in preparation to spring forward if need be. 

With an honest edge to her tone, Katniss cried out, "I can't. That's the problem isn't it?" The bow in her hand was lowered to her side. "We blew up your mine. You burned my district to the ground. We've got every reason to kill each other. So do it. Make the Capitol happy. I'm done killing their slaves for them." The bow fell to the ground where it clattered against the cobblestone, cutting through the popping of gunfire that echoed in the distance. The girl pushed the weapon away from her with the front of her boot. 

"I'm not their slave," the injured stranger muttered pathetically. Hiro nearly snarled. 

"I am," Katniss was quick to cut in. "That's why I killed Cato, and he killed Thresh, and he killed Clove, and she tried to kill me." 

Hiro closed his eyes. He remembered being forced to watch each of those deaths during Katniss' run at the games. Beside his anxiety, wrath flared to life. His unoccupied hand gripped the door frame at his side. 

"It goes around and around, and who wins? Not us. Not the districts. Always the Capitol. But I'm tired of being a piece in their games," Katniss said. After a heartbeat of silence, she continued on, "When I saw the mountain fall tonight, I thought, 'They've done it again. Got me to kill you - the people in the districts.' But why did I do it? District 2 and District 12 have no fight except the one the Capitol gave us." 

Hiro began to nod. The girl was right. The Capitol forced their hand, time and time again. Hiro had no quarrel with the people he had killed. They were merely scapegoats for their government, pawns to be used, nothing more. Yet, he became their murderer on the Capitol's order. Tadashi, too, was forced to become a monster, killing a boy his own age for his continued survival and their entertainment. 

The Hamada brothers were bent until they were broken. They had to pick up the pieces of who they once were to mold something indistinguishable, and all because the Capitol willed it so. 

As Katniss turned to face the cameras, to face the injured people filtering into the square, to face the gunmen marching down from the train station, she asked them to join the rebellion. She asked them to realize who the real enemy was - The Capitol. 

Hiro took a step forward to join her, inspired by her pronouncements, but just as his boot came down, a gunshot rang through the air. Katniss fell to the floor. 

"Katniss!" Hiro screamed. He sprang forward as fighting erupted on both sides once more. He whizzed passed flying bullets and utter chaos to reach the fallen girl. He took her into his arms delicately, turned, and ran as fast as he could. Just as he entered the Justice Building, he felt something slice through the flesh of his arm. He grunted, but he willed his body to tighten its hold on Katniss. He didn't dare let go. 

In the lobby, he deposited the girl on the floor slowly, careful not to jostle what ever unseen injury she may have had. Alarm seized his heart and lungs. He fought for breath, but none would come. The beating in his chest quickened so fast he was sure air flowed through his veins. His whole world spun around him. 

_"Hiro!"_ his brother's voice called out from somewhere in the back of his mind. _"You have to calm down and assess your patient."_

"I don't know how," Hiro whimpered beneath his breath as his hands scrambled over Katniss' armor. 

_"Yes you do, you've helped me so much these passed few weeks in the hospital, you just have to remember,"_ Tadashi said, his words ghosting over his ear. Hiro shivered. 

"Okay, okay, what - what do I do?" the younger Hamada asked, desperation distorting his words. 

Hands that didn't exist claimed his shoulders. Ethereal thumbs rubbed soothing lines into the flesh of his back. _"First, check her pulse. Put two fingers against the side of her neck."_

Hiro did what was commanded of him. Beneath his ministrations, he could feel a definite thumping. It was strong. Hiro grinned. "She's still alive." 

_"Good!"_ Tadashi praised with an amused chuckle. _"But, we're not out of the woods yet, knucklehead. Gotta check if she's injured, buddy. Before she fell, what did you see?"_

Hiro closed his eyes. He replayed the events in his mind and paused at the moment of the shot. Before, his trepidation had clouded his vision, preventing him from seeing the scene in its honest reality. In that moment of clarity, his mental eye traced over the memory. Before she hit the ground, she clutched her side. 

"They hit her side," Hiro affirmed. 

_"Alright, good, okay, so you'll need to take a look to see if you can find the injury."_

Hiro undid the straps that held her chest armor in place. Once they were unlatched, he ripped the piece away from her and tossed it to the side. He lifted her shirt to reveal the smooth planes of her upper body. He searched for any imperfection, but while the skin below the left side of her rib cage was marred with an ugly, purple stain, he couldn't find a bullet hole. 

"I can't find it, 'Dashi," Hiro said, his voice trembling. He bit his lip to keep a stream of pitiful sobs from escaping. 

_"Hiro, my love, calm down. There are no holes, which means the armor took most of the impact, but look, she's still pale and sweating. That means she's going into shock."_

"Why?" Hiro asked the imagined manifestation. 

_"See the bruise? She's bleeding internally. We have to find out why."_

"I-I don't -" Hiro whimpered. His hands came to grip at the hair on the sides of his shaking head. 

_"Is she having trouble breathing?"_

Hiro leaned forward over Katniss's face. He could feel steady puffs of warm air hit his nose. He pulled back. "No, it seems like her airway is clear." 

_"Great! Her ribs might still be broken, but at least they haven't punctured her lungs. But, we still have to find the source of her bleeding. What would be the next likely reason?"_

Hiro's vision blurred. He let out a small noise of complaint. "I don't know, I'm not you." 

_"Don't give up Hiro! Come on, you got this."_

"Her left side is bleeding," he said quietly to himself. The words flowed into a memory. During their time off, Tadashi had listed facts about the human body he had learned during his time as a medic. Hiro teased him relentlessly, claiming that his older brother was simply trying to be a know-it-all, but the older boy laughed it off. More seriously, he later added that these facts were important to know. 

_"You never know, love. It could save a life."_

"The most common organ to rupture is the spleen," Hiro murmured to himself. 

Suddenly, a chorus of stomps echoed all around him. Difficult as it was, Hiro managed to pull his attention from the girl to focus on the new intruders. Gale, Boggs and several other soldiers stood in a semi-circle around them. Each looked more withered than the last. Many of the newcomers held bandages to various wounds on their body. 

Gale was the first to kneel next to him. His features were stricken as his sight came to rest on the unconscious Mockingjay. "Is she -?" 

Hiro shook his head. "No, she's alive, but we need an evac. Her spleen is ruptured and her ribs might be broken," he explained in a much more calm tone than he had anticipated. 

After assessing his mental faculties, Hiro found that with his consternation gone, he felt numb. The surrealness of his surroundings struck him as odd, but not alarming. Was he dreaming? He felt as though he were dreaming. 

The edges of his view darkened rapidly. The boy swayed from side to side, losing all ability to keep himself steady. Still, he felt nothing. It was a nice change of pace after feeling too much for far too long. 

"Hiro?" someone questioned from far away. He didn't know who the sound belonged to. The voice was distorted, traveling through soft cotton before reaching his ringing ears. 

Sleep beckoned him to the floor. 

"He's bleeding!" 

"Holy - the kid's been shot!" 

"We need a hovercraft now!" 


	16. Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black clouds are behind me, I now can see ahead  
> Often I wonder why I try hoping for an end  
> Sorrow weighs my shoulders down  
> And trouble haunts my mind  
> But I know the present will not last  
> And tomorrow will be kinder
> 
> Tomorrow will be kinder  
> It's true, I've seen it before  
> A brighter day is coming my way  
> Yes, tomorrow will be kinder

Tadashi awoke to a metallic clanging coming from his door. He was beckoned to wakefulness, but try as he might, he couldn't open his eyes, finding his eyelids sealed closed. Gravity pushed down upon his entire body with a force that was difficult to fight. He breathed in deeply through his nose, unable to find the energy to open his maw to yawn. 

The clanging paused only to increase in frequency a moment later. The urgency in the sound summoned the strength his muscles needed to finally sit up, if haltingly. Tadashi blinked away the sleep clinging to his eyes; he was met with a bemusing darkness. He turned his head to look at the clock situated on his night stand. In bright red numbers, the device displayed that it was just passed three in the morning. 

Tadashi almost fell back onto the bed with a groan, but the knocking refused to cease. He wiped the wetness that had settled at the corner of his mouth as he grunted, “I’ll be there in a moment!” 

He lumbered to his feet. His movements were slow and imprecise. After a few moments of tripping and swaying, he reached his door and opened it. On the other side, Haymitch stood. He appeared just as ancient as Tadashi felt; his eyes were bloodshot, the lines around his face had deepened, his uniform was in a disarray, and his shaggy hair was mussed in every direction. 

Haymitch opened his mouth, paused, and closed it several times. Finally, just as Tadashi’s patience nearly ran its course, he said, “I have some bad news, kid.” 

Tadashi’s heart dropped to his stomach. 

\---

_“How could you do this?”_ his brother’s voice whispered in the darkness. 

Hiro ran as fast as his legs could carry him through the shadows that blanketed his entire world. Desperation wrapped around his flesh and propelled him forward, compelling him to continue no matter the amount of fear that pumped from his heart. He was weary, so, so weary, but he was powerless to stop himself from searching for - something. 

_“How could you kill those people?”_

It was then that Hiro realized he was not running towards something, but running away. His brother’s presence chased him, whispering his disappointment, his anger, and his shame. He could feel Tadashi’s resentments like a heat against his upper back, radiating from his left arm. 

The younger Hamada’s eyes grew heavy. His lips trembled as a sob threatened to erupt from his throat. The love he had for his brother throbbed, making him ache in the worst way. 

“I’m sorry!” Hiro pleaded, but he knew his apology wasn’t enough. His guilt would never be enough; it couldn’t bring back the people he had murdered. 

A beeping startled him from his subconscious and shocked him back into his body. His eyes snapped open. They flitted back and forth between the unfamiliar grey ceiling to the heart monitor that rested beside him. Something foreign sat upon his face, and though he received a steady flow of air, he was convinced that the object threatened to suffocate him. His trembling hands scrambled upwards, but a deep, painful shock coursed through his arm, halting his motions and forcing a hiss from the boy.

"Hiro, Hiro, breathe, son," Beetee's voice said from somewhere behind him. Strong arms took a hold of his shoulders. The pain in his arm bloomed anew, but he didn't want the physical reassurance to waver from him. It grounded him to his fleeting reality. 

"Help me," Hiro whimpered. He needed to get up, to get away, but he couldn't move. He set his sights to where leather restraints wrapped around his lower body, caging him to a rattling bed. With each shaky movement, his sweat-inducing anxiety increased exponentially.

"Hiro, you're okay. You've been shot. You're in a hovercraft. We're taking you to District 13 to get you into surgery," Beetee explained hurriedly. A hand wound its way into his hair, soothing the boy's frayed nerves. "Sleep now. We're almost home."

Hiro closed his eyes, despite "home" being the last place he wanted to be. 

\---

It wasn’t until Tadashi reached the hospital that Haymitch agreed to inform him that his brother had been shot.

For several long, breath-baiting moments, the elder Hamada did not react. He was absolutely numb, as if some metaphysical being forced its way into his body and tore out his very soul. His eyes grew dull, his lips remained shut, and his body became unnaturally still. Prim, Baymax and Haymitch remained a cautious step away from him. 

The elevator next to them opened. Plutarch exited the rusting cage and approached the group with quick steps. A word was obviously hanging from his opened lips, but it was forced back into his mouth when Tadashi cried out, “You son of a bitch!” 

The medic nearly pounced on him. He outstretched his arms toward Plutarch, and his legs were poised to spring forward. The man was only stopped by Haymitch’s tight grip on his shoulders. 

Plutarch took several steps back. Shock pulled at his eyes. His hands raised in submission. 

Despite the display, Tadashi’s burning anger refused to be extinguished so easily. His worst fear had very nearly come to pass, and it was because of the man standing before him. No, he was no man. 

"You sent him to get killed, you fucking monster!" Tadashi snarled with the fury of a wild animal. He pushed forward against the barrier in front of him. His arms reached out to grip the man’s throat. His curled fingers craved to feel Plutarch’s neck break. 

“Calm down, buddy,” Haymitch whispered in his ear. “Remember, Hiro’s alive, and he’s your boss.” 

The brewing firestorm within Tadashi was not quelled by Haymitch’s reason, if anything, it fueled it further. He was right, of course, but it reminded him of the helplessness he had felt for the last several weeks - no - for his entire life. His fate had always been ruled by the iron will of someone else, and he was sick of it. 

“No more,” Tadashi shouted over Haymitch’s shoulder. He directed his dagger-sharp gaze at Plutarch. “I’m not going to be your puppet for another second. You can forget about me helping you.” 

Plutarch’s stare hardened. The corner of his thick mouth quirked upward. “I’m starting to feel a sense of deja vu,” he said simply. “But I guess irrationality runs in your family, _Urban_ ,” Plutarch went onto hiss. 

Vicious truth lacerated his chest. Finally, the wildfire burned itself out until it was merely a pile of smoldering embers. Tadashi bit his bottom lip to keep himself from saying anything further. Defeat slumped his shoulders; no matter Tadashi's principles, he had a lover to protect. 

With his inner beast caged, Tadashi's form relaxed. He turned away from Plutarch and focused on Haymitch. "Do you know when he'll arrive?" 

Just then, a gaggle of doctors and nurses rushed passed the group to reach the elevator. The rising contraption was filled to the brim with rebel soldiers. In the middle of the small crowd were two gurneys. Both Hiro and Katniss lay unconscious upon their respective beds. 

Tadashi held back his instinct to run to his little brother. As a medical professional, he knew better than to provide yet another obstacle for his doctors. Regardless of his logical faculties, however, he could not stop his heart from racing or his head from spinning. 

The first stretcher allowed to leave was the one that held Katniss. The girl was dashed through the lobby and down the hallway towards the surgical quarters. 

Hiro’s gurney was not far behind, pushed with just as much urgency by his teammates, although his condition was pronounced stable prior to his arrival in District 13, at least according to Haymitch. 

Tadashi danced around the blonde man to hover closely behind the stretcher. He continued to follow, his presence either unnoticed or ignored. When they reached the operating room, the doctor awaiting Hiro stopped him at the door. “I can’t let you in,” he said simply. 

Tadashi nodded mindlessly. He stood rooted in place, even as the room’s doors swung closed. 

\---

“Hey, hey, Hiro, wake up. You’re out of surgery, buddy.” 

Hiro attempted to blink, but his eyelids were pulled by the power of the pain medication that was pleasantly coursing through his veins. His entire world took a tingling, fuzzy quality to it. Molasses drowned his wiggling fingers and toes. There was a strange kind of humor in it; the boy would have giggled if his mouth hadn’t felt as though it were stuffed with some sort of cotton-like substance. 

Eventually, after a short eternity, he slowly coaxed his eyes to open. The edges of his vision were blurry, but in the center, the crystal clear image of his brother stood over him. 

Tadashi flashed him the brightest of smiles. His amber eyes shimmered beautifully in the wake of his exuding light. 

"You look like an angel," Hiro slurred with a swollen tongue. 

Tadashi’s smile softened in response. He reached out and pushed the bangs that had settled on the front of Hiro's face away from his eyes. 

Tadashi’s touch sparked a sudden and frightening realization. If his elder brother really was an angel, then that meant he was there for retribution. Tadashi was there to punish him for his sins. 

Terror wracked his convulsing frame. The atmosphere around him sharpened until pins and needles stabbed the flesh below his skin. Whimpers that begged for mercy escaped his burning lungs. Somewhere nearby, a beeping alarm shrieked. 

“Hiro, Hiro, please calm down,” Tadashi begged. His expression tightened into something that betrayed a certain kind of sorrow, one that looked so foreign on his face. The elder Hamada took several steps away from the boy’s bed. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

_Sorry?_ Hiro thought to himself. _What was Tadashi sorry for? Was Tadashi sorry for what he had to do? Did his love run so deep that he would still feel guilt for punishing him even after he had killed all those people?_

Twin rivers of tears ran down the curves of Hiro’s cheeks. In a tiny voice, he squeaked past the horror in his throat,“‘Dashi? Why are you sorry. I was the one -” sobs interrupted his lament. 

The boy sat up just to double over. He hid his face in his hands. His palms muffled the sounds of his cries, but they were still powerful enough to summon a pair of arms to circle around his shoulders. 

A soft hushing was murmured into his ear. “Hiro, Hiro, it’s okay. Everything’s okay,” Tadashi soothed. 

It wasn’t. No matter how pretty his beloved’s words were, it wasn’t okay. The truth remained an ugly, terrible, cutting thing. It ripped through the fabric of his conscience, rendering it forever irreparable. 

Hiro rocked in his brother’s embrace. “I killed people, ‘Dashi,” the boy mumbled in between his howling. “I can't be forgiven. I should be punished. You should punish me.” 

Tadashi’s head shifted near his own. His arms tightened their hold. “No,” the older man muttered, his voice laden with emotion. “No, you won’t be punished. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Hiro wept harder. 

\---

Sometime later, Hiro cried himself to sleep in Tadashi’s arms. Wrong as it was, the elder sibling took a certain level of shameful delight in the boy’s insistence for his comfort. It banished his earlier worries over their reunion, and although Hiro hadn’t explicitly said so, he knew he was forgiven.The burden upon his shoulders lightened, and he regained the ability to smile genuinely. 

After Tadashi delicately nestled the boy back onto his bed, he snuck out of the room to eat lunch. His friends, who he had not seen in over two weeks, greeted him while they waited in line for their food. Even to his own surprise, he didn’t feel like running away in shame. He talked with them, laughed with them, apologized to them. They, in turn, told him that there was nothing to forgive, that they were just happy to see him again. 

By the time he returned to hospital, he could float on air. 

Within Hiro's room, the boy was awake and eating something out of a small bowl. His eyes brightened as they locked onto his. He smiled around the spoon in his mouth. 

The utensil was pulled from his lips with an obscene pop, and suddenly Tadashi was assaulted with images he hadn’t allowed his mind’s eye to see for weeks. He shivered. 

“Hey dork,” Hiro greeted with a maw stuffed with food. 

Tadashi’s chest filled with an uncontrollable fluttering, which burbled into small chuckles. He approached the chair next to Hiro’s bed and seated himself with a plop. “Hey, knucklehead. Feeling better?” he asked quietly. His fingers sought out the smooth lines of his brother’s cheek. 

Hiro put the spoon down on the tray propped over his lap. He leaned into the affection that was offered to him, though his gaze distanced itself away from his brother’s. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for freaking out on you. I asked the doctor, and he said that ‘emotional instability’ is a side effect of the meds. I should be okay now.” 

“You know you’re a hero, right?” Tadashi soothed. “You saved Katniss’ life.” 

Hiro’s eyebrows knitted themselves highly upon his forehead. “Really don’t want to talk about this,” he said with a sharp edge to his tone. The boy pulled away from Tadashi’s touch. 

A bubble of irritation popped in Tadashi’s stomach. He sucked his top lip into his mouth. A silence hung between them for an excruciatingly long moment before the elder of the two spoke again, “I just don’t want you to feel some misplaced guilt over what happened.” 

“Like you know what happened on that mountain,” Hiro snapped with a snake’s hiss. 

Tadashi shook his head. Hiro was right; he didn’t know exactly what had happened in District 2. He only knew what Haymitch had relayed to him, but what Hiro felt or experienced was a complete mystery. 

Tadashi exhaled through his nose. “I know about the mine, and I know that Gale came up with the plan.” 

Hiro’s fists punched the the mattress beneath him. “And I let him do it,” he snarled. 

Tadashi nodded his head slightly. Knowing tightened his expression. "So, you don't feel bad for the action, but you do feel guilt for not stopping it?"

"Yes!" Hiro cried out with exasperation. He took a few deep breaths. The boy then shook his head. "No. I dont know." 

Tadashi was at a loss. He didn’t know how to comfort the boy, to tell him that what had happened wasn’t his fault, that his guilt was misguided. He thought back to his own experiences in an attempt to empathize. Peridot’s face briefly flashed before his eyes. Tadashi gulped audibly. “Hiro, there’s - there’s an ancient saying: the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” 

Tadashi heard Hiro’s breath hitch in his throat

“That’s maybe how you feel, but I can guarantee you, evil didn’t triumph. It isn’t as black-and-white as you think. Those people would have continued bombing other districts. They would have killed so many other people. You saved lives,” he assured him. 

A tear fell from Hiro’s eye. He hastily wiped it away with his hand. “That’s not why I feel guilty,” he mumbled. 

After another thought, Tadashi strategically changed tactics. He knew Hiro well enough to be certain that pulling his teeth would be easier than pulling out a confession from him, especially in regards to his true emotions. Instead, he leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss upon the side of his head. Against his skin, he said,“Whatever it is, it doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

“It does though,” Hiro gasped out. “I wanted those people to die. It wasn’t until it was too late that I realize how horrible I was for it.” 

There it was. Tadashi pulled away, but he coaxed the boy to look at him with a gentle hold on his chin. He peered deeply into Hiro’s eyes, ensuring his full attention. “Hiro, you aren’t horrible for that anger inside of you. It just means you’re human.” The elder Hamada took a deep breath. He then went on to say, “I can’t approve of the intention behind your...inaction, but it’s understandable. It’s forgivable. That guilt you feel proves that you aren’t a horrible person. So, please, don’t let this cripple you, okay? I know from experience how terrible that is.” 

A pregnant pause permeated the air around them. Their shared stare turned intense. There was so much said between the silent spaces of Tadashi’s words. 

Finally the younger man broke through the awkwardness by offering Tadashi a small, shy smile. The elder Hamada accepted it gratefully with his own grin. 

“Thanks, ‘Dashi,” Hiro said beneath his breath. 

“Anytime,” Tadashi promised. 

The medic’s hands trailed from Hiro’s chin to the front of his bangs. He ruffled the long hair playfully and was rewarded with a chorus of laughter. 

\---

Hiro was given a reprieve from duty for forty-eight hours. Twenty-four of those hours were spent in the hospital in order to make sure that his wound was properly monitored for infection. When Tadashi was not in the room with him, Hiro entertained himself by singing softly. 

During one of his bouts of melodic inclination, Finnick appeared at the entrance of his opened room. The Hunger Games victor announced his presence by knocking on the doorframe. Without waiting for Hiro’s acknowledgement, the man entered the small, enclosed space. 

A smile adorned his lips, but it didn’t hold the same arrogance that Hiro had become accustomed to seeing on Finnick. His eyes also held an unfamiliar mirth to them. It was unnerving. 

Hiro’s eyebrows quirked. “Can I help you?” he asked with a hint of suspicion. 

Finnick's smile grew into an unabashed grin. "You can, actually." 

The victor made his way to the chair beside him and sat upon it. 

A flare of possessive annoyance seared Hiro's tummy; that was Tadashi's chair. The younger Hamada's eyes narrowed and his lips pursed into a slight pout. 

Hiro's irritation went seemingly unnoticed by Finnick, whose eyes drifted somewhere unreachable. Dreamily, he explained, "I'm getting married, and I want you to be there." 

Hiro's distrust mounted. He couldn’t help but think that the man’s subtly could use some work, as he very obviously wanted something out of him. "Me?" he questioned harshly. "You hardly know me. I hardly know you. I mean, I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone." 

"Annie Cresta," Finnick retorted before a single breath could be taken. "And I want you to sing at my wedding." 

_Ah, so there was the catch._ A cynical smirk danced upon his tight lips. His aggravation grew worse in retaliation to Finnick’s presumption. 

"Why don't you get the mockingjay to do it?" Hiro nearly sneered. "I'm sure she's a better candidate." 

Finnick shook his head. "I doubt she'd want the honor, given everything that's happened." 

_Honor?_ Hiro snorted, "I don't know if you know this, but I came out of that same battlefield. Got a bullet wound in my arm to prove it." He shook his shoulder to emphasize his point. 

Finnick's gaze turned down to the folded hands in his lap. "Not the ‘everything’ I was referring to," he said quietly. 

_Oh._ It hit Hiro then that Katniss was supposed to be married to Peeta by that point. Her wedding was going to be televised, a spectacular event for the whole of Panem to witness. The union of the star-crossed lovers of District 12, the couple who fought through the Hunger Games together, who would rather die by eating poisoned berries than kill one another, had been highly anticipated up until the Quarter Quell was announced. They were pitted against one another once more as a means for the Capitol to show their absolute power, and though they hadn't killed each other during their second run of the games, in a way, President Snow had still won. He turned Peeta against her even without the use of the arena. 

If it turned out that their love story was, indeed, faked, Hiro still doubted that Katniss would want to be reminded of weddings and marriages, let alone actively participate in one. 

“Okay,” Hiro agreed with a solemn whisper. “Sure, I’ll sing at your party.” 

“Great!” Finnick exclaimed. His face brightened to its earlier wattage. He gave his knee an excited slap as he stood from his seat.

Just as he was about to make his way out of the room, Finnick paused at the threshold. He turned his upper body towards the injured boy. The victor appeared much more restrained, more thoughtful. It stunned Hiro. “Urban is invited, too,” he finally said after several heartbeats had gone by. “ He saved her, after all, when he got her and the other victors out. I’ll forever be grateful to him for that.”

The boy was shocked to hear him say such a thing. It was emotional, sentimental, and most of all, honest. For the first time ever, Hiro actually believed that something Finnick said was true. 

\---

The next morning, Tadashi assisted an unsteady Hiro back to their shared room. The pain management regimen prescribed to the younger man made him as graceful as a newborn farm animal, so the hospital staff had recommended that he continue to be on bedrest for the remainder of the week.

Command, however, disagreed with that particular assessment. It was decided that Hiro was to rest in his room for the remainder of the day, but he was to resume daily duties the following morning.

Despite Plutarch’s assurance that Hiro would be put on a light rotation of supervisory activities, Tadashi had protested against the decision when it was first addressed to them within the confines of the boy’s hospital room. 

“We can’t afford for Hiro to be out on leave,” Plutarch had gone onto explain. “With Robert Callaghan gone -” 

“What?!” Hiro nearly screamed in response, jolting to a sitting position. Tadashi had shared his wide-eyed, horror-stricken sentiment, having not known until that moment that his mentor had perished in the battle for District 2. 

Plutarch then went onto explain the grisly details of Robert Callaghan’s demise. During the ensuing chaos that came after Katniss’ speech, the head scientist ran into a burning train car to save the soldiers and civilians who were trapped inside, but never made it out of the smoldering metal. His body and Hiro’s microbots were presumed lost after their remains could not be located anywhere in the vicinity. Beetee later confirmed that, theoretically, it could have been hot enough to burn everything to ash. 

It was another loss the Hamada brothers were forced to suffer through, but at the very least, they had each other to share the pain with. 

When the two finally arrived at their room, Hiro headed straight for their bed, beckoning Tadashi along with a loose grip on his hand. The younger Hamada fell onto his back, pulling Tadashi on top of him with an insistent tug. The elder Hamada had his reservations, slightly frightened by the darkened path Hiro was seemingly leading them on, but he complied with the silent request. He was unable to deny the gorgeous boy anything. 

Hiro’s hand came to caress that stubbled skin of his cheek. “I missed you,” he whispered. His eyes were as gentle as his words. 

The sentiment weaved a magic spell, stealing Tadashi’s breath away and pulling him closer. The elder man’s lips brushed over Hiro’s in a sweet, slow kiss. The affection was entirely tender in nature, merely a display of his own longing. Carefully, he did not cross the boundary between devotion and desire; he hovered over Hiro, never quite meeting his body in any sensual way. 

Yet, it appeared as though that wasn’t enough for Hiro, who moaned lewdly into their shared gesture. The tip of his tongue danced along the seem of Tadashi’s lips. His hips canted towards the older man’s in an obvious attempt for more contact. 

Tadashi continued to subtly deny Hiro’s wanton wishes by shifting away from any touch that threatened to tip them into a very dangerous zone. However, the younger man countered each one of his movements, somehow finding a way to push them even closer together. 

Tadashi briefly thought about succumbing to his sexual appetites. Not only did his body react favorably to Hiro’s ministrations, but he loved the boy with every fiber of his being. He trusted him more than he could ever trust another hypothetical partner. The act Hiro promised with his touches could only ever be pleasurable in nature. 

Nevertheless, each time Tadashi tried to dive over the edge, a creeping dread would wrap around his heart and reel him back in. The anxiety in his stomach bubbled to a roiling boil, but the elder Hamada kept it in check. He refused to scare the man in his arms again. 

Hiro’s fingers sought the front of his uniform. With each pop of a button being undone, Tadashi felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier, the lump in his throat further choke him, and apprehension tighten his burning chest. 

Tadashi took hold of Hiro’s wrists. He pulled away with from their kiss with a gasp, “H-Hiro, I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.”


	17. Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want you like, you're mine tonight  
> I want it all  
> Do you bite, well so do I  
> Yeah I'm an animal  
> You be the prey, and I'll be the predator  
> I want it all  
> I can't be tamed, I'm a cold blood killer  
> With you I'm an animal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this came out a week late. I haven't had the best two weeks, so it's been difficult to find the motivation (or time) to sit down and actually write more than a few paragraphs at a time. I hope you all like this chapter! Thanks to kiff44 and lipox24 for beta-ing this chapter.

Tadashi's pupils were blown wide with panic. From the pale skin of his forehead, a sheen of sweat glistened. Breathless apologies spilled from his swollen mouth. The entirety of his foundation visibly crumbled, causing Tadashi to shake so violently Hiro feared that the man would simply collapse in on himself. 

His instinct to comfort Tadashi took over, numbing him to the pain he felt over the sudden rejection. He attempted to sooth the man above him by petting his cheek sweetly and whispering over and over again, like a mantra, "It's okay, it's okay." 

As though he had just resurfaced from being underwater, Tadashi swallowed a sizable gulp of air. He shook his head. With a single clumsy movement, he fell away from Hiro, rolling onto his backside to sit at the edge of their shared bed. He cupped his head with his hands and sobbed. 

An aching weight pulled at Hiro’s heart. Guilt, hurt, and fear rolled into a lead ball that settled painfully in his stomach. He sat up and reached out to grip the older man's shoulder. He hoped that the gesture would bring Tadashi some comfort, and by the way his breathing evened out, it seemed to work. 

Tadashi pulled his palms away from his eyes, which were revealed to be shimmering with tears. With the back of his knuckles, he wiped away at the wetness pooling above both of his cheeks. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Hiro," he exhaled. 

Hiro shook his head; the apology was unnecessary. The notion that his lover didn't want him anymore lacerated him, that was for sure, but it was obviously not Tadashi's intention or fault. He gave the shoulder in his hand a reassuring squeeze. He quietly said, "Tadashi, it's okay if you don't want this or me -"

"No," he interrupted the boy with a dismissive sigh. "It's not that." 

Hiro swallowed. A desperate vexation clouded his judgement. Without thinking, he blurted out, "Well, what is it then?" 

Tadashi stiffened, and Hiro immediately regretted opening his mouth. It was far from his aim to upset the man further. Hiro attempted to apologize, but was cut off when Tadashi leaned to the side, turned his head and kissed the corner of his mouth. 

“I want this,” Tadashi whispered against his skin. He pulled away. His gaze flitted to the empty space of his lap. After a heartbeat, he explained, “But, I have this overwhelming feeling that if we cross this boundary, there’s no going back for us.” 

Hiro's bemusement only increased. He quirked an eyebrow. "Going back? I don't understand." 

Tadashi hummed deep in his throat. It was a sound that Hiro had been accustomed to hearing when Tadashi was about to lecture him on something he had done wrong. “It’s - Hiro, I don’t know if I’m okay with letting you go yet, as my brother, I mean,” he admitted. 

Hiro felt a heated question rise like bile in his throat, but before he could open his mouth, Tadashi continued, “I know you said you don’t see me as your brother anymore, but I’m not as okay with that as I thought.” 

If Hiro’s heart hadn’t already been shattered, he was sure it would have broken just then. Regardless, a phantom agony presented itself; his ribs felt as though they were being pulled apart, and what remained within his chest crumbled into nothingness. 

A familiar heaviness pushed against the back of his eyes. Passed the lump in his throat, Hiro choked out, “So, you want to go back to just being brothers?” 

“No!” Tadashi gasped. He grasped Hiro’s hand and laced their fingers together. 

The younger man faced his brother, whose gaze, directed back at him, held something gentle yet stern. 

“No, God no, Hiro, I want to be with you so much. I’m just being selfish.” 

Hiro was left breathless in the wake of his words.

Tadashi closed his beautiful amber eyes. Almost inaudibly, he said, “I don’t just want you as my lover, though. I want to be your guardian, your protector, I want to be everything you need. I know that may be too much to ask.” 

Pushed onward by on overwhelming metaphysical force, Hiro pulled away from Tadashi’s grip. He grasped his face, pulled him closer, and planted a wet, frantic kiss on his lips. He wished for the gesture to convey the intensity of his feelings. Tadashi wasn’t merely a brother or a lover. The man in his arms was everything and more to him.

A noise of complaint escaped Tadashi’s throat. The elder Hamada held onto Hiro’s wrists, but he didn’t push him away. Instead, he reciprocated the action by allowing Hiro’s tongue entrance to his mouth. After some hesitation, he moved in response to his younger brother’s ministrations. 

When they pulled away, Hiro assured him with a hoarse whisper, “You’re not just anything to me, Tadashi.” 

Tadashi’s eyebrows furrowed. “But, you said -” 

“I didn’t say it right, and I’m sorry,” Hiro apologized, though his frustration at Tadashi’s stubborn martyr-complex hardened the edges of his tone. “What I meant was that we’re equals. Younger or older means nothing. We’re still brothers, but you’re not just taking care of me. Now, I’m taking care of you, too.” 

A brightness illuminated Tadashi’s face. His eyes watered with a fresh wave of tears. A grin erupted upon his face. Before Hiro had a chance to react, he was pulled into Tadashi’s arms His embrace was tight, nearly maddeningly so, but Hiro didn’t attempt to end the loving hug. He snuggled closer into his shoulder and wrapped his arms around his elder brother’s back. 

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” Tadashi whispered against the shell of his ear. “You have no idea how happy you always make me.” 

Relief melted Hiro’s bones. His body pooled and melded against Tadashi’s frame, as though he were made of warmed candlewax. He wanted nothing more than to stay connected to him this way until the end of time. 

“Same, you dork,” Hiro chuckled against the fabric of Tadashi’s uniform. “Same.” 

Tadashi shifted slightly. He didn’t release the boy, but he did pull back far enough to point the line of his sight to the younger boy’s face. A bashful smile graced his mouth. “I take it I completely ruined the mood, right?” 

Hiro laughed heartily. The moment he caught his breath, he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m a teenager, I’m always in the mood,” he joked. 

Hiro found himself on his back a moment later. Lips descended upon his fervently as hands snuck underneath his shirt to dance over the sensitive skin of his sides. After some exploratory maneuvering, their hips connected deliciously with each needy thrust. For a small but beautiful eternity, the two breathed each other in, basking in one another’s presence and affection. 

All too soon, yet not soon enough, Tadashi pulled back only to rid himself of his uniform top. The younger man used the distraction to assist his older brother with unbuttoning his pants and shimmying the clothing down over his quivering muscular thighs. Tadashi completed the rest of the task by hastily kicking the bottoms of his uniform off of himself. Hiro’s own clothing was pulled from him, nearly torn off by Tadashi’s eager hands, without his assistance or protest. 

The younger Hamada pulled the elder back upon him the very second their offending articles of clothing were thrown over the side of their bed. 

For the next hour, they clumsily navigated the plains of their bodies, petting, gripping, groping, kissing any part that was within reach. The novice touches were foreign, unfamiliar, but mostly pleasing despite their newness. Any mistake or failure was met with laughter and a promise of mutual desire. 

Their bodies were eventually coaxed to join together, and although it was awkward at first, their shared ecstasy mounted quickly. Before long, they tumbled unceremoniously over the edge, climaxing with each other’s name on their tongue. 

Tadashi maneuvered himself off of Hiro to deposit his boneless body on the other side of the bed with a heavy plop. With a breathless chuckle, Tadashi asked, “So, was it good for you?” 

Hiro returned the good-natured chortle, “Do you have to ask?”

“That bad, huh?” 

Hiro lightly thwapped his elder sibling with the nearest pillow. 

\---

For the next several days, the whole of District 13 chattered incessantly about Finnick's extravagant wedding. The promise of a party, one grand enough to be televised, was extremely unusual. Or, so it was inferred from the gossip buzzing around Tadashi. 

From what Tadashi gathered, marriage ceremonies in the district were far more procedural than celebratory. Typically, a couple would report to their commanding officer to sign a contract. Afterwards, they would begin the process of moving into their assigned new room, one big enough to accommodate any future children they were thoroughly encouraged to have. (More soldiers for their army, Tadashi thought with a slight bitterness). A family gathering may take place during reflection, but typically, the end of the wedding was marked by the couple settling into their new quarters for the night. 

The romantic in Tadashi balked at the premise, but the practical side of him understood the need to streamline the process. In a district where one's food intake was carefully monitored and where one could be jailed for hoarding a single piece of bread, there just weren't enough resources to waste on frivolous matters such as weddings or parties.

In any case, Tadashi didn't need to ask whether or not this was Plutarch's idea; he already knew that the show was entirely for the Capitol's benefit. It was a way for District 13 to show Panem that they were going strong in the face of war. 

Not that Tadashi was sad for it. After everything Finnick had gone through, he deserved a quiet piece of happiness in his life. Nonetheless, the commencement of his marriage also provided a rehabilitation opportunity for Peeta. 

In District 12, Peeta had been the son of a baker. Before the Hunger Games, he helped his parents create the best baked goods in all of Panem, or so he bragged to Tadashi on occasion. More prominently, he was typically in charge of decorating the pieces that would later be sold. 

No one in District 13 even knew how to create pastries, let alone decorate them. If the wedding were to have a cake, in the truest sense, the only person who could pull such a feat off would be Peeta. 

Initially when Tadashi made the suggestion, the recovery team seemed to take a collective metaphorical step back. Protests clammered together, drowning the observation room with white noise. It was only when Plutarch hushed the doctors with a frantic waving of his hands that the negativity ceased. 

“Urban is right,” Plutarch had agreed. “Peeta is getting better. As long as we have guards on him, there isn’t a reason we shouldn’t trust him.” 

For a few hours each day, Peeta was led into the kitchen to create the masterpiece that would be Finnick and Annie's cake. Afterwards, Peeta returned to his room, eyes brighter than they were before. 

During this time, Tadashi discovered that the boy ate more, slept more, spoke more when spoken to. Peeta had come to realize that many of the memories warped by the Capitol had a shimmer to them, as though they were tinted with gold. He still could not always differentiate what was fact from fiction, but it was tremendous progress in a short amount of time. 

Tadashi couldn't have been prouder. 

\---

Meanwhile, Hiro had an entire department to run without any prior experience or know-how. According to his superior officers, a set of tasks would be given to the robotics lab on a monthly basis, and it was his job to divide the responsibility between his underlings. At the time, the job hadn't seemed so monumental, until he realized exactly what it entailed. 

Hiro wasn't a "people person" by any means. He preferred to work alone on his own projects. Sharing responsibilities with others wasn't something he was accustomed to, especially with people he didn't exactly know. How could he assign jobs to people without having any idea as to what their strengths and weaknesses were? 

On the first day of his new job, Hiro left his team to their own devices. He hid in his office until he had to leave for his assigned mealtimes. 

On the second day, he approached Plutarch, who was in the observation room, to officially resign from his duties. The man would have nothing of it. Plutarch explained that it wasn't necessarily Hiro's skills that qualified him for the job, but rather his status as the hero of District 2. The confidence that title brought to his team would surely boost their morale, making the department, as a whole, more productive. 

“Let them show you what they can do,” he added. Surprisingly, Tadashi nodded from his seat at the conference table. 

If Tadashi thought he could do it, well, he at least owed it to his brother, to his team, to himself to try. 

\---

The block of time normally reserved for “close-quarters combat practice”, as the Hamada brothers had dubbed their reflection meetings, was spent preparing for the wedding. Tadashi remained in Peeta’s room, creating decorations from the autumn foliage brought in from the outside. Meanwhile, Hiro spent his time rehearsing for his musical number.

Tadashi was unofficially barred from the auditorium level of District 13, for the time being. Hiro wanted his song to be a pleasant surprise for everyone, including his elder brother. 

The elder Hamada didn’t mind too much. Hiro, as of late, began to develop a wonderful habit of singing him to sleep, so he had his own private show to look forward to each night. Nevertheless, his shared therapy sessions with Peeta provided a soothing calm to his otherwise hectic day. 

“I take it he forgave you,” Peeta said quietly during one of their meetups. 

Tadashi paused. He glanced up from his half-finished flower table piece to peer at Peeta. 

The boy didn’t look at Tadashi. His entire focus was on carefully attaching a delicate brown leaf to a piece of thick paper that would later be used as a placecard. A notch formed between his eyebrows. The tip of his tongue peaked out through the corner of his mouth. 

Tadashi chuckled, “Why do you say that?”

“You’re smiling an awful lot lately,” the younger man answered. His tone was tense, but Tadashi figured it was due to the level of concentration he was applying to his piece. 

“Yes, he did,” Tadashi answered as he shifted his own concentration back to his project. His fingers gently twisted the stems of the two flowers in his hands together. 

After a moment’s silence, Peeta spoke again, “Are you two happy? Together?” 

“Very,” Tadashi replied without hesitation. His rapidly beating heart and smooth smile agreed with the sentiment. 

“Was it hard at all?” 

Immediately, from the boy’s hesitant tone, Tadashi recognized Peeta’s need for reassurance. Obviously, his relationship with Katniss had been far from easy, from their humble beginnings in the arena, to their terrible separation, and finally to their less than positive reunion. Tadashi didn’t have all the details, but the details he did have painted a very ugly portrait of anguish and mistrust. He couldn’t begin to imagine what the boy was going through, but he could sympathize. 

Tadashi nodded solemnly. He felt his smile fade away. “Yes, it was really hard. There were a lot of doubts we had to clear up, and a lot of hurdles we had to jump through. But, now we’re really happy.” 

“That’s good. I’m glad you two are doing well.” 

Though Peeta’s tone was quiet and thoughtful, Tadashi knew he meant what he said. 

\--- 

The day of the wedding came. It was business as usual throughout the district, but there was a different, more jubilant energy that surrounded the hollow tube. Genuine smiles broadened the faces of the citizens who milled about. The air was filled with a cheerful murmur. The lights seemed brighter, and the colors seemed less dull. As Hiro wandered around the lab, observing his teammates in their natural environment, he found that his scientists were far more positive than usual. 

Over the course of the last week, Hiro had gotten fairly acquainted with his team, who were more than willing to display their talents as he made his daily rounds. There were a few negotiations and shifts in production, but overall, Hiro’s supervisory position had proved to be much easier than he had expected. 

An added benefit of being the head of a department was the amount of time he was able to devote to his own ideas. Without his microbots, and the subsequent order to further improve them, he found his mind wandering to the half-formed projects stored in the back of his head. On his electronic drawing pad, he sketched models in various poses who wore a variety of different types of battle armor. 

District 13’s standard-issued combat gear was designed with tacticality in mind, that was for sure, but Hiro felt that the design was far too impractical for every single one of its soldiers to use. He thought of the nerd crew. They could hardly carry a rifle on their best day; it would be impossible for any them to keep heavy equipment strapped to their chest and back for long periods of time. 

Being so encumbered also reduced mobility. He thought of Robert Callaghan. Could he have escaped the fire if he had not been so overburdened? It was a question he didn’t like to ponder on, but his imagination forced him to. The more he contemplated on it, the more convicted he became in his newest venture. 

Hiro just didn’t know exactly where to start. 

\---

Unless there was a special announcement being made by command, the auditorium level of District 13 was typically left vacant. Yet, in the span of a single afternoon, the empty space was transformed into a meager, but quaint wedding venue. 

Unlike the drapery and fine china Tadashi had been accustomed to seeing at weddings, the long communal tables that were situated on either side of the center aisle were adorned humbly with arts-and-crafts and trays borrowed from the mess hall. In front of each seat, the beautiful placecards Peeta had painstakingly constructed sat atop of the plastic cutlery. His own table pieces sat in between each assigned space to denote the line of separation between each guest's proposed position on the bench seating provided.

Hiro and Tadashi found their seats, surprisingly, near the front row. They were not the first of the three-hundred invitees to arrive, but they were certainly not the last. The rest filtered through the elevator doors in a steady stream of controlled chaos. 

All of the guests, including the Hamada brothers, wore only their normal uniforms to the event, a concession to Coin’s frugality. The only exception was Annie and Finnick, who appeared in elegant clothing, no doubt borrowed from Katniss and Peeta, once everyone was seated. 

The ceremony was a quick succession of events. Finnick and Annie recited their vows in a matter of minutes. A liturgical fish net, made from the long grasses that grew along the outer reaches of District 13, was then draped over the happy pair, pronouncing their union official and sacred. A chorus of clapping congratulated the two after they shared a small, but sweet, kiss. Tadashi thought he couldn’t have been more joyful. 

That was, until, Hiro led him by the hand to where everyone began to dance along to the lone fiddle being played. Tadashi laughed as he haphazardly spun and swayed around his brother, and forgot, for a brief heartbeat, that there were cameras pointed at everyone like guns pointing at targets. It was dangerous work taunting the Capitol, but Tadashi didn’t care. He allowed himself jubilation as he moved around Hiro to the rhythm of the music. 

After a few songs, the fiddle’s music came to an end and was replaced by the rattling of the elevator cage. Everyone’s attention focused on the grand cake that was wheeled into the room. It was the first time Tadashi had seen the monstrosity, although it was described to him by Peeta many times. All those depictions could never compare to the artwork that was displayed before him. 

The tiered cake was more akin to a tapestry than a delicacy. The sea-colored frosting was the perfect backdrop to the modeled-sugar ships, fish, sea mammals and flowers that came together to create an ocean scene. The only word Tadashi could think of to describe the food was “beautiful”. 

Tadashi thought the pastry was far too pretty to eat, but the others around him disagreed. For the first time throughout the wedding, he was glad for the cameras that panned in on the cake, capturing the pristine image permanently before everyone else greedily dug into the treat like wolves tearing apart an animal carcass. 

The young medic slightly-less-than-begrudgingly accepted a piece from Hiro, who had somehow stepped in line and retrieved two slices of cake before he had time to notice his departure. 

It was then that he remembered Hiro’s notorious sweet tooth. Back in District 3, Aunt Cass had to lock away the treats that would be sold the next day, lest the youngest Hamada find the stash and eat it all before the cafe’s doors opened the morning after. 

_How could I forget?_ He thought to himself. An amused smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. _Of course he would be the first in line for something like this._

Not long after everyone sat down to enjoy their food, Plutarch approached the siblings. He leaned forward to whisper something in his younger brother’s ear. Hiro nodded before they both disappeared for a few short minutes, only to reappear at the front of the room, in front of a lone microphone. The plump man announced that Hiro would take the “stage” to sing a musical number dedicated to the newlyweds. 

This, Tadashi expected. 

What he had not expected was Baymax waddling to stand beside the fidgeting boy. Hiro bent forward to take an auxiliary cord from the bottom of the microphone stand. He straightened his back, stood on his tip-toes, and fitted the other end of the cord into a port near Baymax’s head. After some slight adjustments, the robotics genius turned back towards the crowd, situating himself with flustered movements in front of the microphone. 

“Um, hi,” Hiro stuttered into the amplifier. 

The device screeched horribly. A few people coughed, others groaned, and some chuckled into their hands. A sheepish grin spread across his face. 

“Sorry,” he apologized with a squeak. In a more natural tone, he quickly added, “ I, uh, wrote this song for Annie and Finnick. I hope you all like it.” 

From Baymax, a staggered electronic beat played through the single speaker. The melody was made up of a strange combination of “beeps” and “whirlings”, but it was delightful nonetheless. Tadashi bobbed his head along to the intro of the song, but was awed into stillness when Hiro’s intense gaze locked onto him the second he opened his mouth. 

Though the song was written to commemorate Annie and Finnick’s relationship, Tadashi knew that the lyrics, which spilled marvelously from his lover’s lips, were intended for him. His chest warmed as he listened to the musical love note. 

_“I am here for you  
Open up your eyes and don't look away  
I'm dripping down from the fangs  
When I hear your name, I feel the pain  
And I'm crawling on the floor just thinking that  
I'm a fool  
But I'll wash myself and I'll stand again  
After flying with angels, yeah  
And now I'm backing out the corner  
And don't you think that I'm a runner  
I'll be coming with my guns up  
Shooting at the moon to bring the sun up  
Fall back and close your eyes  
I'm at the bottom we can hide and be forgotten  
Come closer, say my name  
Say it forever, we can run away together  
And keep on crushing on our love like this  
On our love like this, on our love like this  
I'll keep on crushing on our love like this  
We don't need to say the words cause we're speaking nonsense  
Well, You said before  
To lay down and close my eyes  
When I'm here  
Grabbing at my chest with a broken heart, yeah  
And I'm filled with fear  
I've been ripped up and tossed like a mouse  
Wrestled with the heavens and the devil himself  
Your voice can break my bones  
When you speak a force rushes in and slowly  
Rips me to pieces, yeah  
I would give my life to another  
Just to prove I'm not a runner  
I be coming with my guns up  
Shooting at the moon to bring the sun up  
Fall back and close your eyes  
I'm at the bottom we can hide and be forgotten  
Come closer, say my name  
Say it forever, we can run away together  
And keep on crushing on our love like this  
On our love like this, on our love like this  
I'll keep on crushing on our love like this  
We don't need to say the words cause we're speaking nonsense  
Don't say anything at all  
I don't wanna get pulled out  
Just get close to me, close to me  
Fall back  
And keep on crushing on our love like this  
On our love like this, on our love like this  
I'll keep on crushing on our love like this  
We don't need to say the words cause we're speaking nonsense.” _

\---

A roar of applause met Hiro’s ear after he finished his song. He smiled politely, but he couldn’t keep his attention on the cheering crowd. Instead, his focus was on the tiny movements he felt within his uniform’s pocket. They started halfway through his song and hadn’t stopped since. There was only one explanation for the strange struggle within his pocket. 

Flashes of memories flickered through Hiro’s mind. He remembered Beetee handing him his beta-tested microbot the night Tadashi had gone to rescue the victors. The uniform he had worn that day was thrown into his drawer in a fit of anger, left completely forgotten until hours earlier, retrieved after rummaging to look for the cleanest shirt he had. 

The microbot was somehow still active, but - it couldn’t be? It could only be activated with a neurotransmitter, and that was destroyed along with Robert Callaghan. Right? 

Something was up, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.


	18. Plan The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave the wasting world behind us  
> We will make it out alive  
> Leave the waiting world behind us  
> We will not give up this time
> 
> Hold on to our reasons  
> And plan the escape  
> Hold on to our reasons  
> And plan the escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE CRAWLED OUT OF CRACK SHIPPING HELL TO BRING YOU THIS THING! 
> 
> We're almost done. There are only about three to four chapters left, plus an epilogue. 
> 
> I sincerely apologize for the length of this chapter. I know it's been more than three weeks since I updated. I did want to make this longer, but putting anything more into this chapter would have disrupted the flow. 
> 
> Fortunately, however, I did gain back my hidashi muse, so I hope that updates will come more often. 
> 
> Thanks to Kiff44 and Lipox24 for beta-ing this fic. However, we're all human, and if you see a mistake, please let us know! Thanks.

Hiro nearly dragged Tadashi out of the wedding venue after his musical performance, much to the chagrin of his lover and those who wanted to shower the young singer with praise for his number. It was, arguably, too early to leave, but Hiro had no patience for the ancient manners his brother chose to shackle himself to. There was far too much at stake. Though what that was precisely, he had little clue. 

Once they reached the creaking platform of the elevator, Tadashi hissed, “What’s going on?” 

“I’m tired,” Hiro replied simply with a sharp, warning edge to his tone. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

He glanced at Tadashi, willing his narrowed eyes to convey that his elder brother needed to remain quiet, that his questions would be answered when they were out of earshot. 

The notch between Tadashi’s eyebrows did not melt away, as Hiro hoped it would, but he didn’t say anything further. 

The elevator stopped at their floor. Hiro threw the cage doors open and trotted down the hallway to their compartment. Tadashi marched quickly behind him. 

At their door, Tadashi fumbled for his keycard. He patted down his pockets unable to find the small device. Hiro let out an exasperated sigh, reached into his brother’s leftmost pant pocket, and swiped the badge over the electronic reader. The moment the hissing of the automatic doors began, he bounced into their shared room. 

When the door closed behind them, he heard Tadashi snap, “Okay, what’s the deal, knucklehead?” 

Hiro whipped around. He fished the microbot out of his pocket and presented the machine to Tadashi. The small robot danced to and fro between the younger man’s thumb and forefinger. 

Tadashi’s eyebrow quirked highly on his forehead. His pursed lips loosened into a quizzical frown. The elder Hamada reached out to take the microbot into his own hand. It thrashed wildly against Tadashi’s own fingers as he brought the machine closer to his eyes. It was as if the tiny device was struggling to free itself. 

Tadashi turned the microbot in his fingers. His eyes visibly scanned every indented line, solid nook and sharp corner of the machine. Methodical, as always, Hiro thought to himself; pride swelled in his chest. 

“Could it be malfunctioning?” he asked quietly. He handed the microbot back to Hiro.“Maybe there’s something in the labs interfering with it.” 

Hiro shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he replied beneath his breath, although he was frustratingly unsure and doubting himself more and more by the moment. 

After all, the microbot was still in its testing stages when it was deployed. He didn’t exactly know what could interfere with the mechanics of its movement, not by a long shot. For all he knew, the microbot could have been acting on its own accord due to the experiments being conducted several levels below them. 

Still, something didn’t sit right with him. His intuition, which was hardly ever wrong, was screaming at him that whatever was causing the lone microbot to move was something that needed to be investigated. 

“Hiro,” his brother called out gently. Hiro's eyes flitted to Tadashi's. The elder man's gaze was hard, intense, but not critical. “I’m not saying this isn’t something we shouldn’t look into, but we need to be careful that we don’t jump to any conclusions too quickly.” 

Hiro absently nodded, although Tadashi’s statement brought something else to the surface of his mind that he had not considered: the conclusions. 

What could the survival of the neurotransmitter mean exactly? Could that mean that Robert Callaghan was still alive somewhere? Or, was Callaghan, indeed, dead, and the Capitol had a hold of the weapon he had created? 

Anxiety, like a traveling iceberg, coursed through his veins and froze everything it touched. He felt sick. If it were not for Tadashi scooping him into his arms, his trembling legs would have collapsed underneath him. 

"Hiro," Tadashi soothed into his ear. "Hiro, everything is okay. We'll figure this out together."

“Yes, together,” Hiro repeated with conviction.

The next morning, Hiro approached Beetee at his workstation in the special defense room, flailing microbot in hand. 

“How is this possible?” were Beetee’s first words as he took the robot into his hand and examined it in much the same way Tadashi had. Lines of bemusement etched themselves on his face as he squinted to take a better look at the device that was handed to him. 

“I don’t know, I was kind of actually hoping you could explain,” Hiro admitted with a bashful smile and nonchalant shrug. The boy tried to retain a sense of being casual, at least as much as he could for the given situation. 

Not one to be distrustful of Beetee, he knew that he could unload his concerns onto his mentor, that was for certain. He was even tempted to spill his suspicions that the Capitol held Robert Callaghan captive somewhere, if he was still alive. But, he decided that the best course of action was to take his brother’s caution to heart: there was no sense in assuming that his wild conclusions had any basis in fact, not until the evidence presented itself. 

_Advice_ , Hiro reminded himself, _you’re only here for advice, don’t get your hopes up._

The younger scientist took the seat directly next to Beetee to watch the man work. From a drawer, Beetee produced a copper cord, whose end extended into a plastic fitting that was connected into a port on his computer. The elder man coaxed the smaller end of the cord into a tiny hole that was drilled within the joint of the microbot. The moment metal married metal, the microbot ceased its erratic motions. 

“Without a neurotransmitter, the microbot shouldn’t have a command to power on,” Beetee murmured, almost to himself, as he typed a set of commands onto his computer. His protege admired the intensity of his focus as he worked his fingers over the keyboard; it validated his concerns. 

Hiro hummed in agreement. “Urban thought that maybe there was some sort of experiment going on that could interfere with it? Maybe something that could produce electromagnetic waves of some kind?” 

Without taking his eyes off of the computer screen, Beetee replied with a soft, uncondescending “If that were the case, it would want to travel to the source of the magnetism, but from what I’ve observed, it seems as though its movements are in response to something, as though it’s trying to locate the direction it should travel.” 

Hiro nodded. Everything he said made too much sense. It filled him with a sense of impending dread, causing his skin to pinprick painfully. He willed himself to remain neutral, if not relaxed. 

“Also, my command for the microbot to stop its seizing would have been ignored in favor of following a natural pattern. Instead, it stopped because of the failsafe I activated,” Beetee added as he continued to scroll through the window pane that appeared on his screen. He shook his head as his brow furrowed. “From what I can see, your microbot is functioning perfectly, which means someone has an active neurotransmitter within range of a signal tower.” 

If the neurotransmitter was close to a tower strong enough to produce a signal that could travel all the way to District 13, then they had the ability to bounce back that signal and trace it to its source. Hiro suggested the idea to Beetee, who in turn, brought up another dialogue box to his monitor. Within the new window, Beetee typed a command to trace where the microbot’s orders were originating from. The return that was given startled the two men. 

“It’s coming from District 3?” Beetee announced as though his statement were a question. He turned his head to stare at Hiro. Something akin to shock was written in the wideness of his eyes and the depth of his frown. Hiro returned the sentiment. 

The absurdity - no - the impossibility astounded the two robotics scientists. How could the neurotransmitter travel that far from District 2? Unless - 

“The rebels found Robert Callaghan and are helping him recover in three? Makes sense that a scientist would be taken to such a technologically advanced location,” Hiro proposed. A threadbare hope held his statement together. 

Beetee disagreed with a shake of his head. “Then why wouldn’t they try to communicate with us? The signal is not blocked, we just proved that. And, knowing District 3, the moment they found such an advanced piece of technology, they would have tracked down where it came from and alerted District 13 that an asset of theirs was recovered.” The man paused. His eyes turned upward in thought. After an anxious heart beat shared between the two, Beetee turned his seat. “The neurotransmitter needs to be recovered lest it fall into the Capitol's hands, if it isn’t already. We need to alert District 13.” 

“No!” Hiro shouted in panic without thought. He reeled himself in before adding, “No, sorry, but the less District 13 is involved, the better. We should try to figure this out for ourselves.” 

“Then what?” Beetee asked, his tone heavy with the weight of their predicament. “We don’t have the ability to retrieve it from here.”

Exasperation filled Hiro’s lungs. He threw a hand into his hair. Beetee was right, of course. What use was pinpointing the location of the device if there wasn’t a way to gain access to it? At the very least, they would need a vehicle to travel the distance between the two districts. That wasn’t even taking into account any resistance they may find along the way. 

Like it or not, if Hiro were to go further with this venture, he would have to involve District 13. 

Hiro sighed a relenting, “Get me in touch with Coin.” 

\---

Tadashi expended little caution as he enter Peeta’s room. He didn’t need much; since using his creative skill to add his own flare to Finnick and Annie’s wedding, Peeta had been improving steadily. The medic no longer feared a physical confrontation or a mental relapse. If only his recovery team could see him in the same way. 

“Morning,” Tadashi greeted. 

Peeta inclined his head towards his companion, but said nothing. His expression was difficult to read. It was stoic, but something lethal sharpened his focus on the far wall. Tadashi knew the boy well enough to figure out that he was lost in thought, and by the way his lips practically sneered, it wasn’t a pleasant one. 

“Everything alright?” Tadashi asked cautiously as he made his way to his usual seat. 

Peeta shook his head. His stare was peeled away from the wall and directed towards his clenching hands. The air in the room grew thick with a tension acknowledged by Peeta’s flinch the second Tadashi’s body rested against his chair. 

The elder man’s shoulders stiffened, despite himself. He attempted to shake off the metaphysical silence that gripped at his form, but the restraint wasn’t broken until Peeta spoke, “I saw Katniss last night.” 

Tadashi nodded in acknowledgement. He didn’t attempt to plaster a polite, but faux, smile on his face; they both knew that the reunion was not a good one, and trying to hide that truth would only make the matter seem worse than it really was. 

Tadashi reached out to place a soothing hand on Peeta’s shoulder. The boy tensed, as was his usual reaction when physical contact was made with his person. It was natural after everything he had been through, but the elder Hamada continued the gesture. As slow and as painful as the process would be, Peeta had to learn to be touched without lashing out. As of yet, Tadashi was the only person he allowed to expose him to such a trigger, or so his recovery team had claimed. 

“Things are going to be rough in the beginning, but I know you’ll both get there,” Tadashi assured the younger man. Where “there” was, he didn’t know, but he had faith that it would be better than what they currently had: indecision, distrust and doubt. 

Peeta returned to his silence, but the tiniest hint of a smile edged its way over his lips. 

\---

“So, what you mean to tell me, is that this robot proves the existence of your device? And we need to spend resources that we do not have to recover it?” Coin asked flippantly. Beneath a raised eyebrow, her critical eyes stared at the unmoving microbot on her table. 

Irritation tightened the coils in Hiro’s belly. His hands balled into tight fists behind his back. Along with a growl, he was forced to bite back the urge to punch the woman in the face. 

Of all the outcomes, this one had to be the worst. At least if the woman were to have somehow blamed him for the loss of the weapon he had created, it would have acknowledged the gravity of their predicament. To not be believed, in the face of the evidence presented, was utterly insulting to his intelligence. 

He refused to allow himself to feel small in her presence, though. He didn’t need her approval. The truth remained so despite her belief to the contrary. 

“Ma’am, with all due respect, this is a serious matter that must be looked into,” Beetee compelled next to him. 

Rather than frustration, fear contorted his expression. Beetee knew the full extent of what the microbots could do in the wrong hands. It was no wonder that he would look so desperate. The concern was contagious; it took shape just under the surface of Hiro’s anger. 

Coin looked to Beetee. The lines around her face hardened. Incredulousness transformed into unease. She leaned forward, towards the elder man, placed her clasped hands onto the table, and asked in a hushed tone, “Have you confirmed that there are no technical issues with the robot?” 

“We both did,” Hiro snapped. He would not be edged out of the conversation, not when it was his technology, his mentor, his livelihood at stake. 

Regardless, Coin did not turn towards the boy. She kept her attention on the older scientist and did not appear satisfied until Beetee nodded his head. 

“We can’t afford to put more boots on the ground when we’re so close to reaching our goal,” Coin explained, each word punctuated by a light tapping of her finger on the screen atop her table. Hiro placed more focus on the motions of her hands than on her statements; she was lying, her words were meaningless. “If you can pinpoint the exact location of signal, then we can send a small team to retrieve the device.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Hiro hissed with little thought to the consequence of his statement. 

Coin did react to that. Scandalized, her eyes widened and her mouth slackened, but before she could push out a reprimand from her clicking tongue, Hiro added, “If you think, for one second, that the neurotransmitter and those microbots aren’t worth your attention, then you’re either delusional or an idiot.”

The young scientists picked up the device and shook it near her face. Through clenched teeth, Hiro added,“This, ma’am, has the capability of transforming battlegrounds, killing thousands of your troops, spying on the districts you’re trying to protect. We already have a location, so give me what I need in order to protect your cause.” 

Coin’s mouth clamped shut. Her gaze flitted between Beetee’s lack of response and Hiro’s microbot. Quickly, she composed herself. A single nod was given to the young man. “What is it that you need?” she asked quietly. 

Hiro's satisfaction curled his lips into a smirk. "I'm glad you asked." 

\---

After his "talk" with Peeta, Tadashi spent much of the afternoon making his rounds around the hospital. From afar, he observed as Prim continued her medical training, coached by another doctor. Baymax faithfully remained by her side the entire time. 

While the elder medic fumbled with Baymax's applications, the girl used his medical companion with the expertise he had come to expect after all of their sessions together. 

A sadness crept up on him, one that was hard to understand. Nostalgia? No. It was something more than that. Longing, he reasoned. Longing to actually do what he had set out to do: help people. 

Helping Peeta did fulfill him in a way, but he felt chained by concessions and unreasonable expectations. He was forced to mold him into the district's ideal. Peeta wasn't to be a human being, he was to be their tool. It was no different from what the Capitol had done to him. 

Tadashi's communicator cuff vibrated against his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. He tapped on the faceplate and brought up a message that was sent in by Hiro. 

"It's show time. Your schedule is fixed. Meet me in the special weapons and training room ASAP." 

Indeed, when he swiped to the next screen, a message appeared that indicated that his schedule had been shifted to accommodate a meeting of some sort.

Tadashi briefly wondered what his brother meant by "show time." It sounded as though he should feel some sort of dread, but excitement was what urged him out of the hospital and into the elevator.

\---

Coin was adamant in her decision to not expend anymore of her troops, but unbeknownst to the woman, her obstanence was exactly what Hiro had counted on. He didn't need troops, he needed rebels, true rebels. People fighting for a cause, not because that was their only choice, but because that was the choice they truly made for themselves. Those were the kinds of people who would do anything to get the job done, and that's why he agreed to her compromise. 

Hiro would take five people, build armor for them, test the armor during the physical portion of the combat readiness exam in three weeks, and if they passed, they would be sent to retrieve the neurotransmitter. 

One by one, his chosen five marched into their original special training room: Honey, GoGo, Wasabi, Fred, and lastly, Tadashi. They each looked slightly bewildered, almost annoyed (at least in GoGo's case), but they greeted Hiro with polite salutations before taking the seat indicated to them by their new leader. 

Once everyone was settled, Hiro took to the electronic display board in front of them. 

"Alright, so, I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here," Hiro started as he tapped on the board, bringing it to life. 

"Get to the point, Hamada," GoGo groaned. "Some of us grownups have real jobs." 

Fred snickered from the corner. Wasabi backhanded his arm. Honey shot her fellow female a look. 

Unperturbed, the younger man continued on. "I'm glad you bring up jobs, because for the next three weeks, this will be your only one," Hiro explained enthusiastically. He bounced on his heels as he tapped the corner of a window pane on the display board's screen. Five blueprints of various armors appeared, along with mockups, graphs and other visual representations of data. "You're going to help me build this, but on one condition, you have to use it for a very important mission." 

"I'm in!" Fred interjected. He waved his hand to and fro, as if Hiro’s attention hadn’t already been on the young man. He knew he could count on Fred, it was the others he was more worried about convincing. 

"Wait! Hold on, a mission? Hiro, we can barely get through training!" Wasabi exclaimed, displaying the level of trepidation Hiro had come to expect from his friend. 

"That's right, and we never agreed to this, what exactly are you planning?" GoGo snapped harshly. This surprised Hiro. Typically, GoGo seemed adamant about using her skills to help their cause. 

He turned to Honey, who looked just as unsure as her other two friends. 

Hiro was slightly disappointed by the lack of positive response, but in the end, he knew he could get them to work together on this. It seemed to Hiro that he would just have to resort to psychological tactics to make them see reason. They had very little reason to trust him, but they trusted Urban. He was their leader, their confidant, a person who would never steer them wrong. It was not a power unique to Tadashi’s alterego. He always had such a hold on people, one that he rarely used.

Waste not, want not. If he wasn’t going to use his magic to cast the spell, Hiro would. He inclined his head towards Tadashi. "Tell 'em," he commanded lightly. 

Tadashi groaned. He rubbed the front of his face with his hand. Through his palm, he grunted, “I thought we agreed not to jump to any conclusions.” 

Hiro tsked and rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped an impatient cadence with his foot. “I didn’t,” he nearly hissed. “Beetee found that the microbot was getting a signal from the neurotransmitter.” 

“Wait, I thought the it was destroyed,” Honey interjected gently.

Hiro nodded. “That’s the thing, it isn’t destroyed. It’s up to us to get it back, otherwise, the Capitol might get to it first, if they don’t already have it. I don’t think I need to tell you guys why that would be bad news for us.” 

“How did you find out about this?” GoGo asked. 

Tadashi hummed, bringing everyone’s attention onto him. He dropped his hand away from his face. “The microbot started to move on its own, suggesting that something was controlling it. If it’s getting a signal, then yeah, we need to get the transmitter before it’s too late.” 

GoGo paused before she peered sternly at Hiro. Resolutely, she claimed, “We’re not soldiers.” 

Hiro shook his head. “You don’t have to be,” he replied. “I’ll make you into soldiers.” The younger scientist gestured to the graphs, blueprints, and sketches that appeared before them. “I just need you to help me make this, and in three weeks, we’ll be proper rebels, helping to bring down the Capitol. So, who’s with me?” 

Slowly, but surely, everyone’s hands raised.


	19. Just a Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I am  
> I don't know this place  
> Don't recognize anybody  
> Just the same old empty face  
> See these people they lie  
> And I don't know who to believe anymore  
> But there comes you to keep me safe from harm  
> There comes you to take me in your arms  
> Is it just a game?  
> I don't know  
> Is it just a game?  
> I don't know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I have been sitting on this chapter for the last two weeks without uploading it. It has been super crazy here! We didn't really have the time to edit it. Now, I'm happy to announce that i can finally upload. 
> 
> Also, on another happy note. I have all of the chapters completed. The only thing I have to write is the epilogue, which I am working on now. As long as schedules don't change, within the next week or so, you should see this fic actually completed.

The mission was set: retrieve the neurotransmitter, even if it meant taking it from hostile forces. The group put themselves to work that afternoon. 

Each person was given a design chart based on their particular strengths. Once they approved their individual plan, 3D printing could begin. There were a few modifications that needed to be made, but overall, the team liked the early boarding of their new armor. 

Thin, yet sturdy, chest pieces came standard for everyone. Unlike the utility chest guard that the other soldiers wore, theirs would be more formfitting, much in the same way Katniss' mockingjay outfit was. It offered the freedom of movement without sacrificing protection. Hiro knew for a fact that such an armor could stop a speeding bullet, so it would be more than beneficial against wayward microbots. 

There was only so much improvement that could be made to the usual shoulder pads, elbow pads and legguards without interfering with their usefulness, so the decision was made to keep the district’s design and material. 

Next came the head gear. As Tadashi pointed out during his inspection of the designs, he knew full well that the standard-issued helmets given out by District 13 restricted his ability to see, and even he had difficulty keeping his head up for the duration of his missions. Military helmets, were then, voted out in favor of visor helmets, their lighter counterpart. It did not offer the same level of protection, but sight and maneuverability were key on their assignment. An added benefit to such equipment was the ability to install communication devices directly into the reinforced glass of the visor, allowing for its user to easily gauge the distance, health and availability of their teammates, via the use of electronic graphics, without having to look away from what was directly in front of them. 

Once the preliminary decisions had been made in regards to armor, it was time to outfit each individual with some sort of weaponry. Tadashi was a damn good shot, so his rifle and sidearm were left for him to use. The rest of the group had less than satisfactory scores during target practice; their weapons would have to be fitted to their individual abilities. 

Honey-Lemon specialized in chemical composition and decomposition. Her training and skills allowed her the ability to create reactions that could destabilize her potential opponents. The only issue was that she couldn't carry her entire lab with her - or could she? After a bit of finagling, Hiro designed a satchel that manufactured translucent orbs on command that activated the desired chemically-induced effect upon impact (borrowing from Beetee's weapon design). Honey only needed to indicate how much of each material she needed via a touchscreen situated on the side of the satchel. 

Before coming to District 13, GoGo had worked on maintaining the electromagnetic suspension used by the Capitol's trains. The rebellion more than welcomed her, since her expertise was utilized consistently to help design faster vehicles for the field of battle. Borrowing from those efforts, Hiro designed a pair of circular "skates" that traveled by careful use of the same electromagnetic suspension, the rims of which could be removed and thrown like a disk. Afterwards, the rims could be called forth by the magnetics that kept GoGo upright. 

The plasma induced lasers Wasabi had developed were an easy addition to his equipment. Two conductors, attached to his protective gloves, were situated in such a way as to create two laser daggers at the press of a button. 

Compared to Wasabi, Fred was a much more difficult person to design for. Each of his suggestions ended with his ultimate desire to acquire the ability to transform into some sort of mythical being. Following Tadashi's advice, Hiro tried to look at the odd predicament at each possible angle. Fred didn't actually need to become a monster, but be given the tools to allow himself to believe he had transformed into one. Ultimately, Hiro attached spring suspensions to each one of his boots, giving him unprecedented jumping power. Meanwhile, his helmet was outfitted with a torch that could be activated by a bellow of air. 

"What about you?" GoGo asked after Hiro attached the final mechanisms to Fred's combat boots. She leaned against his desk, her arms crossed over her chest. Casually, she clicked her tongue. "What are you going to use?" 

Hiro reached down to the pack that was strapped around his thigh. He produced a single knife, and in one quick, clean motion, he threw it just passed the girl's head. 

GoGo's neck rapidly twisted in the direction of the flying weapon. She stared unbelieving at the hilt jutting out of the concrete wall. He allowed the girl a few more eyeblinks before he pressed the button that was seated in the circle of his gloved palm, calling the instrument back with the use of a powerful magnetic within his wrist guard. He caught the knife by the handle and placed it back into his pack without sparing her a second look. 

"You're lucky I like you Hamada, I would have killed you for that if you were anyone else," he heard the girl scoff lightly, obviously impressed in spite of her complaints. Hiro did a poor job of containing his grin. 

The rest of the group worked enthusiastically on their own armor sets, tweaking them as they saw fit. They were only interrupted when Tadashi called out from the front of the room. "Um, guys, I know we're all excited about the new armor, but I'm seeing a variety of color that might be a bit out of place on our mission. I mean, we need the element of surprise on our side and this basically paints a neon target on our backs." 

Indeed, Hiro glanced up from his workstation to see dashes of pink, yellow, blue and green strewn throughout the room. He internally winced. Of course, these people were from the Capitol. Well-meaning in their ardor, but that came with a certain level of flamboyancy he was unaccustomed to. 

Hiro sighed, "There's some black paint somewhere in my office, I'll get it after dinner."

Sheepish looks were shared between the group. Even Tadashi looked slightly embarrassed for his friends. 

\--- 

Although the rest of the nerd crew only had the singular job to prepare for the physical portion of the military exam, Tadashi was still an integral part of Peeta’s recovery team. In the mornings, he was still ordered to assess his patient for successful, normal human interaction. Once that had been completed to its fullest extent, Plutarch would then give him his approval to meet Hiro’s team. There, he was in charge of training the nerd crew on what they should expect on the exam, as he had already passed the brutal test the first week he arrived. 

However, when Tadashi entered Peeta’s room the next morning, he found the space startlingly lacking a patient. His eyes glared up at the observatory window, challenging any occupants inside. If Peeta was being threatened, punished or hurt in anyway, the rest of the team would have to answer to him. As though they heard his malicious thoughts, a tired, exasperated voice filtered through the intercom, “He’s eating breakfast in the mess hall.” 

Tadashi’s tension melted away, but it left behind a strange sense of soft anxiety. He attempted his best to push passed it and feel some sort of happiness about the development, but if his time in the Capitol and District 13 taught him anything, it was to be wary of change. Up until a few days prior, his pleas to allow Peeta outside of the hospital room, supervised, but among his fellow man, went unheard. What had happened to inspire confidence that Peeta was to be trusted around others? Or, what plans did they have for the boy that required such a push forward?

The squeaking of the door behind him brought him out of his thoughts. He pivoted on his heel. Peeta met him. His eyes were bright, aware, lucid, but the near permanent sneer on his face cut the cords keeping Tadashi's heart in his chest, dropping the organ into his stomach. 

Tadashi swallowed passed the lump in his throat. “How did it go?” he asked, feigning some semblance of casualness. Internally. he winced at how forceful his tone sounded. _God, Hiro is right. I suck at acting._

Regardless of his theatrical blunders, Peeta didn’t seem to notice or care. He simply shrugged. He stepped around Tadashi and made his way over to the hospital bed and sat on the edge. Quietly, he explained, “It went okay, I didn’t freak out. Didn’t see Katniss. She’s training for something so she had breakfast earlier than I did.” 

The young medic smiled softly. He nodded to acknowledge Peeta’s statements as he approached his seat. “Were you hoping to see her?” he asked while getting comfortable on the hard plastic, the hopeful edge of his voice lightened the heaviness of the questions. 

Peeta shook his head as he murmured, “I don’t know. Maybe a little.” 

Tadashi’s smile stretched minutely. He patted the younger boy’s knee. “It’s progress,” Tadashi assured. “You used to have an episode any time someone mentioned her, and now, you actually want to see her.” 

Peeta took a deep breath through his nose. “Yeah, but only to prove to my mind that she’s not what the Capitol made her out to be. I don’t feel anything good for her yet,” he argued sternly. 

Unperturbed, Tadashi continued on, “Don’t discount your amazing progress just because you’re not at the finish line. Everything counts. This is a huge step, and I’m proud of you.” 

It was by far the most sincere compliment he had ever paid to the boy. 

\--- 

Hiro, with some help from Beetee and Gale, transformed the special defense room into a training arena. Targets were set up in such a way as to not require long-ranged weaponry, but rather, encouraged hand-to-hand combat to take down. Each target still moved, depending on the setting Hiro chose, but were given a wide enough berth between one another to allow for strategic maneuvering. 

For several hours each day, the nerd crew painstakingly transformed their bodies into living, breathing weapons designed for a single purpose: to retrieve the neurotransmitter. 

It was excessive, but Hiro wanted to prepared for anything. Fortunately, according to Beetee’s monitoring, the neurotransmitter did not stray far from District 13. The signal continued to bounce back with equal strength. It didn’t necessarily mean that the transmitter hadn’t moved, but it did mean that it couldn't have moved very far. Hiro hoped it would continue that way for the next several weeks. 

In the mornings, the group would train individually, honing their skills. During the afternoons, Tadashi liked to drill them on team practice. They were much less suited to work as a team than Hiro had hoped, but their instructor was very patient with them. He would explain, with a smile and in soft tones, what they had done wrong and ways they could improve. They weren’t military, not in the same way Tadashi was, and the elder man seemed to recognize that. 

During reflection, Tadashi and Hiro continued to use that time to spar. The younger Hamada was more adept at holding his own in close quarters combat, but Tadashi was still far more capable of bringing his little brother to his knees, or on his back, or face down on the cushioned mat. 

It was oddly attractive, in an aggressive fashion. The sexual tension was very much there; Hiro liked to watch his brother’s face flush, the sweat roll down his neck, and his broad chest expand with every deep, heavy breath he took. It was certainly a small miracle that the boys didn’t get caught up making love right then and there. 

After dinner, it was no holds barred. The moment they entered their shared bedroom, a sea of discarded clothes would wash over the place, leaving their space a mess of strewn cloth and heated air. The wet, post-coital silence that settled between them as they lay in bed was neither awkward or unwelcome. It was beautiful. It was right. For the first time in years, Hiro felt something that was akin to contentment. 

Hiro never had to wonder if Tadashi felt the same; the soft, amber glow of his eyes conveyed enough. 

\---

Three weeks came and went too soon, at least to Tadashi. Their training was sufficient, he had made sure of that, but his team's confidence was not. It was obvious in the way their laugh lines stretched far too much when they smiled and the way their eyes seemingly screamed "we are way in over our heads!" Hiro was an abundance of impatience and courage, but even he fidgeted at the mention of the exam. 

The night before the test, Tadashi couldn't coax his body to relax or rest. His thoughts were plagued with all sorts of possibilities, which churned his stomach's contents. 

The one comfort Tadashi had was that there was no way they could get hurt. Everything in the testing room was simulated. The gunfire and explosions they would inevitably encounter were merely well-placed special effects and theatrics. Unlike in a real battle, even if they failed, they would be okay. If any wounds were sustained, it would be bruises to their egos and nothing more. 

At least, Tadashi hoped that would be the case. With their special armor, there was no telling what the district would have in store for them. 

Tadashi groaned the moment he heard his alarm go off. 

\---

Hiro shifted from one foot to the other as he waited just outside of the simulated street combat level for his turn to take the exam. 

SSC, or "The Block", as it was simply known, was the recreation of a Capitol city block. It was meant to test a person's readiness for following military procedures within an urban combat zone. The possibilities for each squadron's test were endless; one had to push through snipers, mines, traps, ambushes, and much, much more. However, their objective was simple: make it all the way across the block "alive". 

Normally, a person would be joined by seven other people, making up a complete squad. This was not the case for the nerd crew. Due to the advantage of having specialized armor, the test proctors decided that each of the group would have take the exam alone. 

One by one, each member of the nerd crew entered the Block. They did not return. Hiro would not find out if they passed until after he made it through himself. The idea made his palms sweat. 

"Hiro Hamada," a feminine voice called out from the speaker system. "You're up. Good luck." 

Hiro approached the large steel doors. As they slowly worked themselves open, revealing the tall facade of dilapidated buildings and the long stretches of abandoned streets, Hiro took a deep breath. He felt no better. His stomach remained tied in intricate knots and his heart continued to be a battering ram against his rib cage. 

_“Remember,”_ his brother’s voice spoke at the back of his mind. _“They’re going to test your weaknesses. You have to act like a soldier, not like a human being.”_

“Hiro, you’re orders are to group up at the end of the block, do you understand your objectives?" The question was monotone, robotic. 

"Yes sir!" Hiro stated with a shout. It echoed throughout the room terribly. The boy winced at the sound of his own voice. The reverberations sounded so horrendously foreign. Shame colored his cheeks. 

"Go!" The tired voice ordered. 

Hiro was tempted to run, but he did not. Instead he scanned the empty street before him before cautiously taking a step forward onto the black asphalt, then another, and another. Each step ahead of his was examined for traps. Every other second, he cautiously checked his back, his sides, and the concrete dome above him. 

Soon, without incident, he came upon his first building. He flattened his back against the brick surface, and peeked over the side of the wall towards his goal. It was clear. 

Something wasn’t right. It couldn’t be that easy. Were they testing his arrogance? His impatience? Were they waiting for him to make a wrong move before setting out their trap? 

His chest grew heavier. A hand was kept close to his knife pack. 

A gunshot rang out. It was so loud, louder than he expected. Hiro thought he would have been used to the sound, but it still basked around his head painfully. He clenched his teeth. 

No announcer said he was shot, nor did he see any marker on his body to suggest a wound. He was still in the game. 

Hiro looked up, but did not see a sniper. Peaking once again around the side of the wall, he didn’t see an assailant. Yet, he was too afraid to move.

Where had that damn shot come from? 

“Hiro!” his brother’s voice called out for him. The origin of the sound seemed to come from the alley on the other side of the building. “Hiro! Come out, I need to talk to you!” 

Hiro suppressed a growl. Were they really using his brother as bait? Was this really a part of their test? Fine, he’ll play along. 

The younger Hamada walked along the side of the building. He focused his ears on the sounds of disturbed gravel and shuffling boots against concrete coming from the nearby alley, but kept an eye on his surroundings. This was what they were looking for. They wanted him to be distracted. 

Just as Hiro reached the corner of the building, another small explosion blew up in his head. After a dizzying moment, he realized a gunshot had gone off only a few feet away from him. He reached into his satchel and clutched the handle of a throwing knife. 

Hiro glanced over the side of the building into the alley. He shouldn't have been so surprised by what he saw, but it didn't stop his chest from tightening and his eyes from stinging. The nerd crew kneeled by the far wall, their hands held up over their heads. Both fear and defiance were written in each of their eyes. 

The person keeping guard over them, aiming his rifle at each of their heads, was Tadashi. 

This was fake. It was all make-believe, but the sense of betrayal was very, very real. Hiro growled under his breath. His hand tightened around his chosen knife. 

"Looks like our friends nearly failed, Hiro," Tadashi shouted out, seemingly unaware that his little brother was hiding behind him. "That's okay, if you can rescue them, you all can reach the other end and pass. One catch -" his brother gave a dark chuckle "- you'll have to take me down first." 

Hiro's foot jumped, but he hesitated. Could he really take down his brother? He had the ability to throw a knife accurately faster than Tadashi could aim his gun. But, could he ever face his brother again knowing that he simulated killing him in order to pass a test?

Yes, it was fake, but the intentions behind his actions were all too real. 

Maybe that's what they were hoping to test. District 13 wanted to see how well he handled betrayal, having an enemy that used to be a friend. Could Hiro do whatever it took to get the job done? 

Just as Hiro loosened his grip on his weapon, something shimmered out of the corner of his eye. He concentrated on the bright, colorful flashes that illuminated from the edges of Tadashi's frame. For a brief second, his silhouette warbled unnaturally. 

This Tadashi was a holographic projection! 

Hiro couldn’t possibly fight a hologram, which meant that his “brother’s” presence was a trap. He scanned the area just behind the false figure. There, he saw the thin, nearly invisible wire that would activate some sort of mine. 

In an instant, it all came together startlingly clear. District 13 wasn't testing his ability to kill his former teammates, nor were they testing his ability to rise above his overconfidence. They were testing his anger, his impulsiveness. 

Not only did they assume that he wouldn't hesitate to kill his lover to get the job done, but that he would be so eager to do it that he wouldn’t notice his surroundings. 

Hiro didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. 

Regardless, he couldn't let their ill thoughts towards him go unanswered. If they wanted anger, if they wanted impulsiveness, they had it.

Hiro pulled the knife in his hand out of his pack and threw it at the wire, slicing through it. He ran across the entrance of the alley to the outward facing wall of the other building just as the blast echoed throughout the block. The sound was deafening, but he hardly registered the pain. His entire being focused on passing the rest of the exam as lethally as he could. 

Any time he passed an obvious trap or a mine, he would purposefully set it off with a piece of rubble and expertly dodge out of its effective radius. Any projection of a sniper or enemy combatant was met with a well-placed knife. By the end of the test, he started to actually take a perverse pleasure in causing as much destruction as he could. 

The younger Hamada waited outside of the gate that was situated at the end of the Block. It opened just as haltingly slow as the entrance had. On the other side, an illuminated hallway awaited him. He walked inside, taking cautious steps as he made his way down the hall. The lack of activity left him feeling unsettled. 

Had he somehow failed? Was there a metric that he didn’t meet? Did his actions result in his disqualification? 

It wasn’t until he entered the room at the end of the corridor that he was relieved of his worry. Within the meeting space, Tadashi and the rest of the nerd crew awaited him. They looked absolutely overjoyed to see him. 

Tadashi was the first to congratulate him with a tight hug. Honey-Lemon followed suit. GoGo and Fred patted the younger Hamada on the shoulder, while Wasabi ruffled his hair. Their verbal recognitions of his accomplishment culminated into a cacophony of cheer that he was grateful for. His annoyance melted away into something resembling happiness. 

Until Plutarch stepped towards the group. Hiro’s narrowed gaze set itself on the large man. That was when he took note of the projection of District 3’s map that was suspended over a large table behind him. 

Plutarch made a gesture towards the seats surrounding the table. “If you would please,” he said with a small smile. 

They each took a chair and prepared a plan of attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, even though I have two wonderful betas, we are all human. If you find any mistakes, please let us know!


	20. Devil May Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The light will shine through the rain  
> And heaven will hear them call your name  
> And home will feel like home again  
> Corruption will fill your brain
> 
> Faces in the crowd  
> Faces in the crowd will smile again  
> And the devil may cry  
> The devil may cry at the end of the night
> 
> Faces in the crowd  
> Faces in the crowd will smile again  
> And the devil may cry  
> The devil may cry at the end of the night
> 
> They will parade upon your victory  
> They will parade upon your victory  
> You'll put a smile upon their faces  
> The world will be yours for the taking  
> The story you birth will be ageless  
> Just learn to love pain and be patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting so close to the end! Can you feel it? 
> 
> For those of you who aren't into _The Hunger Games_ movies, you might not know that the _Mockingjay: Part 2_ trailer came out recently! You should definitely check it out if you want a visual of some of the written parts of this fic. They did a magnificent job translating the books into the movie! It made me so excited to watch. 
> 
> As always, thanks to my wonderful betas, who I won't have to bother much longer.

Tadashi was not allowed to watch his friends take their military exam, constrained by the rules dictated to him after he asked the proctors if he could. He had wanted to argue that such a rule didn't make sense, considering he had already passed his own exam, but he kept his lips sealed. There was no need to inspire more of the vindictiveness District 13 was so fond of. 

Waiting in a sterile meeting room for several hours, as his friends slowly filtered in, had been nerve-wracking, to say the least. This was especially so when his company included the predatory gleam in Plutarch’s eye, but even the normally talkative man had very little to say to him as he, too, waited for the entirety of the nerd crew to arrive. 

One by one, weary and frazzled, they entered the room. All of them had passed. It didn’t surprise Tadashi, per se. They were extremely intelligent, and where they lacked brawn, they had the ability to strategize and adapt to their situations. However, their situational awareness could be refined further. Tadashi was sure that if they had failed, it would have been because of their lack of ability to read their combat situation tactically. 

Nevertheless, though the exam exploited each one of their weaknesses, they were able to surpass that to reach the end of the block. At last, after an hour, the only person they waited for was Hiro, who took an unusually long amount of time to complete his examination. At the ten minute mark, Tadashi’s foot tapped against the tile floor beneath. At the twenty minute mark, he started to pace the room, Plutarch’s eyes following him as he rounded the table. At the half an hour mark, Tadashi was ready to demand that he be shown the video footage of his brother's examination. 

"Your boyfriend is fine," Plutarch assured with an exasperated sigh.

Tadashi set his narrowed gaze on the the older man. It was obvious that Plutarch sensed his unease, as he was sure everyone did. Tadashi realized then that he was a beast rattling in a cage. The energy that exuded from his tense shoulders and clenched fists must have been the reason for his friends' shared look of concern. 

No matter the realization, he couldn't calm himself down. Any separation from his little brother left him anxious, which was understandable given their circumstances, but this closure from him only fueled more resentment towards their aggressors. District 13, more and more, seemed to be an antagonistic force towards them, and whether that was perceived or real, he wasn’t quite sure anymore. 

Plutarch tapped his earpiece twice. “I’m getting the play-by-play. Hiro is having fun in there,” the gamemaker chuckled. 

Tadashi growled beneath his breath. Was he serious? Sarcastic or not, his irritation only grew. It festered hotly beneath his skin, demanding to be expelled by words or fists. He fought to restrain himself; he didn’t want his actions to be used against Hiro, not again. 

The moment the door opened, revealing his little brother, who wore a small, tired smile, Tadashi felt his world come back together. Serenity travelled through his cooling veins. A sigh of relief escaped his lips the moment his arms encircled Hiro’s shoulders. He congratulated him enthusiastically, as did the others around him, but the celebration was short-lived. Plutarch reminded them of their mission with a polite command to sit around the meeting table. 

The projector system embedded on the table displayed a rather large, opaque, three-dimensional map of the entirety of District 3. From the omitted buildings and the structures left diagramed that no longer existed, Tadashi knew that the map was rather old. Though he had not stepped foot within the confines of District 3 in years, he could still visualize his home district as it once was. While it was possible that some structures had updated, he knew that a factory, attached to the abandoned laboratory a few miles outside of the district proper, could not be rebuilt within a half-mile-wide crater. 

An idea dawned on Tadashi just then. He pointed to where the abandoned laboratory stood. “There, that’s where the neurotransmitter is hiding.” 

\---

Hiro silently agreed. If Tadashi hadn't stated that fact first, he would have. 

"How can you be so sure?" GoGo asked sharply. She wasn't one to take anything at face value. If she was going to risk her life to retrieve the transmitter, Hiro knew she would need concrete proof as to its whereabouts. 

Hiro took note of the way Tadashi's eyes widened ever-so slightly. His fingers trembled atop the table. The sheen of sweat that glistened over his forehead was discrete enough to not be noticeable by anyone other than Hiro. 

The younger Hamada tried desperately not to find amusement in Tadashi's distress, but it was such an adorable display. His elder brother sputtered unintelligently. While Tadashi knew for a fact that the abandoned laboratory had been shut down ages ago, he also couldn't reveal that he had once lived within the district's walls. 

Hiro coughed, bringing everyone's attention to him. "Makes sense, doesn't it?" he started. "District 3 is swarming with rebels. If anyone in the Capitol would be trying to hide something, it would have to be miles away from the nearest structure. Also, what this map doesn't tell you is that the lab was abandoned after the factory blew up in an accident. It's a perfect hiding spot." 

A collective nod was shared among the group. Plutarch hummed in agreement. 

“How do we get to the lab?” Honey asked softly. Her eyes strayed from the map to flit between her friends. 

“Oh!” Fred interjected energetically. He waved his hand frantically. “I know! I know! Why don’t we go in with an army of hovercraft? They can clear a path for us with their missiles! Then we use our weapons to storm the facility and take down the bad guys.” 

Plutarch gave an exasperated sigh. He rubbed a hand down the front of his face. “This isn’t a movie, we need more finesse.” 

Tadashi gave a single nod in Plutarch’s direction. “I agree. What about a night mission? Like we did in the Capitol? Infiltrate the facility quietly.” Everyone’s eyes shifted to Tadashi. They remained quiet, their expressions turned thoughtful. Tadashi took advantage of his audience, and continued, “The added benefit, in this case, is that there shouldn’t be too much security around that particular building, not without alerting the rebels in the district. We could probably be in and out within an hour.” 

Though it made Hiro cringe internally, the young scientist shook his head. Tadashi’s optimism, while encouraging, was not realistic, not with the current conditions of their home district. 

“Won’t work,” he contested softly. “That night mission succeeded because hovercraft go in and out of the Capitol all the time. One more wouldn’t raise anyone’s suspicions. In District 3? It would spook whoever was in the lab. Best case scenario, they try to run, but worst case…” he tailed off, letting the implications convey more than his words could. 

Disappointment was evident on everyone’s faces, and for a moment, Hiro, too, felt frustrated by their roadblock. The journey to their current point had been, relatively, smooth. It was planning on the unknown that left everyone at a loss as to what to do. 

Hiro knew more about the scene then anyone else in the room, but even he couldn't account for every misdirection that could be presented to them. His goal was to conjure a decent plan that would see everyone unharmed in the end, even if that end was failure. 

Another brutal moment of silence passed between the group before Plutarch clapped his hands loudly. He stood so abruptly from his chair that it slid noisily along the tile floor. A playful smile danced on his lips as he made his way around the table and towards Hiro. Two wagging fingers were pointed at the smaller man. 

"You are a genius," Plutarch cheered. He stepped behind Hiro's chair, placed his hands on his shoulders and shook the scientist.

Hiro quelled his urge to punch the man in the face, but he made no such effort to hide the sneer that stretched his mouth. 

Plutarch continued obnoxiously, " Thanks to this kid here, I have an idea." 

Hiro felt a slight sense of betrayal at the hope that radiated from everyone. 

\--- 

The remainder of the meeting was pleasantly efficient. Plutarch's plans were agreed upon and finalized by District 13 within the hour, leaving everyone with enough open time in their schedule to do some extra training until dinner. Tadashi was amused by their enthusiasm, but despite everyone's teasing protests, he did not join them in the special defense room. 

They were left in capable hands, however. Hiro was put in charge of overseeing their progress. This seemingly satisfied the team, as they practically skipped through the hall and into the elevator. 

After allowing himself a moment to chuckle, he pivoted on his heel and made his way to the elevator on the opposite end of the floor. Without glancing at the level panel, he pressed the button for the hospital floor. The rattling cage groaned as it slowly inched its way down until a flurry of activity could be seen through the bars that held the contraption together. 

With an expert ease that only months of working as a medic could give him, he side-stepped around bustling doctors and other medics to reach Peeta’s room. He entered the room as though he shared it with the boy, who was in the process of writing something within a notebook. On the small table beside Peeta, a stack of military manuals were stacked neatly.

“I’m glad to see they trust you with writing utensils,” Tadashi joked as he made his way to his designated seat. 

Peeta smiled. He lifted the notebook he was working on to show his companion the neat scribbles had had placed upon the worn paper. “They’re going to trust me with a gun, too,” he responded smoothly. “I’m studying for the military exam.” 

Something cold settled in Tadashi’s chest. It spread through his being, causing a shiver to run the length of his spine. 

This was too soon. 

No, Peeta shouldn’t be placed on the field at all. Even if his current state was satisfactory for normal, everyday interactions with those around him, the atrocities he faced in the games left him permanently susceptible to relapse. He would never be in any suitable shape for warfare, leaving Tadashi wondering what his recovery team was thinking. 

Dread quickly melted into irritation. Yet again, the rest of the recovery team made a decision without consulting him for his opinion. He had no doubt that it was because they knew he would be a dissenting voice. He, unlike the rest of his colleagues, felt responsible for his patient’s welfare. It was obvious that their loyalties lay elsewhere. 

Tadashi trained his features to remain bright and cheery. He offered his congratulations, though the words rolled off of his tongue like bile. 

“But, anyway, there’s something I came here to tell you,” Tadashi coughed out. He took Peeta’s inquisitive look as his cue to continue speaking. “I’m going on a mission tomorrow, one that I’m sure I’ll come back from, but if anything happens, well, don’t forget what we’ve talked about, okay?” 

Peeta’s eyebrows knitted themselves highly over his brow. His eyes softened in such a way as to cause a lump of emotion to lodge itself in Tadashi’s throat. The younger man offered his arm. Tadashi stood to take it, hugging his patient tightly against him. 

Tadashi swallowed. The gravity of the boy’s future loomed above him in that moment. What would become of the teenager in his arms if he was no longer present? Already, his influence over the boy’s treatment was waning. Without him, would they take the chisel and carve him out to be their tool? 

The medic turned his chin to quickly whisper in the boy’s ear, “No matter what, remember who you are. Don’t let anyone turn you into someone that you’re not.” 

There was no hesitation in Peeta’s nod, as though he had prepared for Tadashi’s concern. It disconcerted him.  
Peeta was known to be good with people, reading their intentions and manipulating his situation to fit his needs if necessary. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that Peeta was already aware of the recovery team’s intentions. 

Tadashi let go, gave him one last nod, and walked out of the room. 

\---

That night, instead of sleeping, Hiro found himself on his back, attempting to fend off his brother's ticklish assault with minimal success. Tadashi’s fingers danced expertly over Hiro’s sides with a fervor that was almost sadistic. Try as he might to retaliate, the younger Hamada was helpless against the attack.

By the time the affectionate warfare had ceased, both Hamadas were breathless with laughter. Once Hiro recuperated his breath and calmed his shaking, he pulled Tadashi closer against him. He rested his forehead upon the hard plane of his shoulder and closed his eyes. 

Tadashi held Hiro just as tightly, but there was something more to it, something the younger man didn't like. It was desperate and felt too much like a goodbye. 

"Everything will be fine, knucklehead," Hiro assured his brother with a quiet laugh. 

He felt Tadashi nod his head against the side of his face. His stubble scratched against his cheek pleasantly. An intrusive thought penetrated his skull just then, one that forced Hiro to wonder what it would be like to never feel the scratch of his elder brother's whiskers against his skin again. It made him feel sick. 

Hiro took a deep, shuddering breath just as Tadashi did the same. 

\--- 

Plutarch’s plan was rather brilliant, or so Tadashi begrudgingly admitted to himself. As Hiro had stated a day ago, hovercraft were a remarkably rare sight in any of the districts. The only airborne vehicles that travelled to or from District 3 were used to carry supplies to the rebels. So, they simply hitched a ride, disguising themselves as volunteer workers while keeping their armor hidden amongst the genuine cargo. 

Hiding in plain sight, as Plutarch called it. Even if they were somehow recognized, he had gone on to explain, there was nothing remarkable about a team of scientists going into the central technological hub for the rebellion. It made perfect sense. 

Tadashi, acting as the group’s guard, was the first to step out of the hovercraft and onto the gravel of the district’s only landing port. He kept a tight grip around the handle of his rifle and a sharp eye out on their rocky surroundings. Satisfied with his inspection, he beckoned the rest of his crew, with a wave of his hand, to bring out the crates of gear that had been brought with them. 

Hiro was the only individual that did not flinch at the harshness of the sun. Although the bone-chilling grip of winter had tortured District 13 as of late, such a season didn’t exist in their home district. The weather was seasonably mild, but brightness never strayed too far from the sand and rocks that made the Hamadas’ home. It was probably what made it possible for someone to camp out in an abandoned, unventilated laboratory without freezing to death. 

District 3’s mayor, a thin, balding, wisp of a man, came out to greet the “volunteers” and guide them the short way into the district proper. Tadashi felt the back of his teeth grind as he nervously waited for the mayor’s stare, or the stares of those milling about outside, to point out how familiar he seemed. To his utter astonishment, no one paid him any mind. He had truly been forgotten, and the thought, as terrible as it was, was comforting. 

They came to their first stop: the hospital. 

The group dropped off the real cargo of medical supplies in an office that was located in the corner of the small, overcrowded clinic. To Tadashi, it seemed more like a hospice for the wounded to live out the rest of their days in agony. 

Bile rose to his throat as his tear-filled eyes looked out of the observation window to see the deplorable condition the patients were in. The cots were moth eaten and falling apart at the seams. Half decayed bandages had been haphazardly plastered against grimy, uncleaned skin. Instead of IV bags, plastic bottles hung from metal poles, most likely filled with expired medication. Although the rebellion was winning out against the Capitol, the war had certainly taken its toll on his home town. 

Tadashi flinched when a strong grip was placed on his shoulder. He looked down at the origin of the touch, finding Hiro’s concern written plainly over the line of his frown. 

“There’s nothing we can do to help these people right now,” Hiro whispered. “The only thing we can do is win this war for them and hope it’s not too late.” 

More than ever, he resolved to do just that. 

\--- 

Late that afternoon, as the sun settled over the mountains, offering them just enough darkness to be obstructed but not enough to hinder their ability to see clearly, they donned their gear and climbed the terrain to the abandoned factory. Tadashi assisted in maneuvering them through the shadows offered by the rubble and broken columns that led to the crumbled building. 

Through the broken double doors, Tadashi motioned at the shattered glass that was still spread throughout the tile of what was once a lobby. Although impossible to pass through in total silence, they lightly stepped over the majority of the damage to only make the most minimal of crunching sounds. Even so, Hiro cringed at every echoing sound that bounced back at him, fearful that at any point, a pack of guns would pounce through the dark recesses of the corridors on either side of them.  
Tadashi stopped the group with a hand signal. For a moment, the elder Hamada stared down at his communicator device. A look of bemusement passed over his features as he tapped the screen. A small breath escaped through his nose. 

“What’s up?” Hiro asked. 

Tadashi shook his head. “There’s something jamming the signal. Last I saw, it was coming from the left side of the building, but now it’s completely dead.” 

Alarm shook at Hiro’s body. His heart pounded and his knees shook. The scar from his gunshot wound pulsed. “You think they know we’re here?” he hissed. 

Tadashi shook his head once more and with such conviction that it reassured the younger Hamada. "No," he clarified beneath his breath. "The jam is too localized. Whoever is hiding the transmitter didn't account for someone having a microbot outside of the lab's radius." 

Hiro nodded in agreement. 

"But, now we're at a dead end," GoGo growled from behind the lovers. 

"Not quite, my compatriots," Fred whispered, but with all the enthusiasm of a cheer. Tadashi and Hiro turned. Seemingly satisfied with their full attention, he continued, "Didn't you bring the microbot? That, fellow rebels, will lead us to our goal." 

Honey-Lemon bounced on her heels. "You're a genius, Freddy," she announced softly. 

Fred preened under the praise. 

Hiro fished the microbot out of his pant pocket and held it out in front of him as though it were a miniature dowsing rod. The machine twisted and pulled at his fingers, towards the left corridor. The group turned to face the empty hallway. The chill of the unknown crawled down Hiro’s back, but despite the dread that slowly filled his veins with ice, he led them forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! We're all human. We all make mistakes. If you find one, please let me know. Kudos and comments validate my existence. Thanks!!!


	21. Lost Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why am I here? Who could I be?  
> Could I be the hero? Could I be the villian? Trying to be productive, trying to make a living  
> Inside this world, somehow I do  
> Looking at the glass, ceiling reminiscing, pistol in my hand, hatred in my heart  
> I'm sorry for, painting that view  
> View of violence, into your subconscious, what the TV does too  
> I mean who could you blame?  
> I mean who could you blame?  
> Cause we're  
> Ooh-oohhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have come to the last full chapter of this fic! I just realized that I forgot to mention this last chapter, but as of a thousand words ago, I have officially surpassed the word count for _Mockingjay_. Yay me!~ Well, sorta. I mean, it proves to myself that I am capable of writing a full-fledged book. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

Tadashi led the group on what felt like an expedition through untamed wilderness. Electrical wires hung from the ceilings like vines, discarded tools littered the tile beneath their feet like branches upon a forest floor, and the concrete debris begotten from the destroyed beams around them acted as small boulders. Unused to such terrain, the rest of the group slowly inched forward, cautious against the natural traps that threatened to topple them over or signal their approach. 

Every so often, the young medic would stop and use one of the indents in the wall as cover. He would then survey the remaining path, to ensure their safety, before proceeding forward. 

For what felt like a small eternity, they found nothing of interest. The microbot led them through a long expanse of dark nothingness into more nothingness. If Tadashi had been less confident in Hiro’s technology, he would have thought that the device was broken. 

As they approached another enclave, Tadashi motioned for the group to hide behind it as he also took cover. He brought his rifle up, using the scope to visually roam through the shadows. Just as he was about to give the all clear, a tap was placed on his upper arm. 

Tadashi peaked over his shoulder and found Honey-Lemon motioning to the door next to him. Upon further inspection, it was cracked open. 

“There’s light coming from the room, I think something is going on in there,” she hissed over Tadashi’s shoulder. 

The elder Hamada gave the girl a nod of acknowledgement. He took a single step toward the door, careful to keep his rifle steady at his side as he slowly pushed the creaking metal. Before he allowed the others passage, he used a hand motion to stop them from entering. There was no way he was letting any of them inside until he inspected the place thoroughly. 

At first glance, it looked like a control room. There were several broken desks surrounding a central hub with a wall-sized monitor. Though the casing around the monitor was cracked at certain areas, the illuminated LCD screen was intact and displaying the seal of panem at its center. 

It threw shadows over the abandoned workstations, which flickered violently in Tadashi’s vision. With his rifle held up and ready, he examined each corner to ensure that the movements in his peripherals were birthed by his imagination. He wasn’t satisfied until he walked through each row of desks and inspected every inch of the walls around him. 

Tadashi looked back at the door and beckoned them forward. They stepped inside slowly. Their eyes, too, explored the technology graveyard that lay in waste before them. 

“Guys, why is the creepy computer on?” Wasabi asked in between small movements to Tadashi. 

Although he couldn’t see his younger brother, he could almost hear the curious smirk, surely plastered on his face, in his question, “Let’s find out, shall we?” 

Hiro tip-toed around Tadashi and to the central computer. The tiniest hint of a pink tongue peaked through the corner of his lips. His fingers were outstretched, obviously eager to touch the workstation’s holographic keyboard. The rest of the group crowded around the younger man; Tadashi loomed over him like a protective canopy. 

“Alright, let’s see if I’m still in their system,” Hiro said beneath his breath as his credentials were typed into the login dialog box. To Tadashi’s slight surprise, Hiro was in. “Hmm, looks like someone else is logged into the virtual desktop. I have admin access so I can take a peek at what they’re doing.” 

Tadashi’s skin prickled with alarm. “Are you sure that’s safe? Won’t they know you’re remoting into their session?” 

Hiro scoffed. He looked up at his brother with an expression that was an odd combination of unbelieving and insulted. “Urban, you wound me, my love,” he said theatrically. He straightened his features into something more neutral, if not slightly haunted. Hiro looked back towards the screen, entered a series of numbers in another dialogue box, and waited for the screen to settle onto the other person’s workstation. “They gave all the admins the ability to remote in onto other sessions privately to make sure people were doing their work. Another form of control.” 

On the other virtual desktop session, whoever was using it, was watching some sort of footage. Tadashi realized, with a sicking roll of his stomach, that it was a hunger games match from a decade ago. 

A tall, auburn-haired, green-eyed girl stood over the precipice of a cliff. Her opponent, a small, pale, unassuming boy with wide eyes, held a knife clutched closely to his chest. He made no motion to attack her, and she made no motion to attack him. They were at an impasse. 

That was, until the girl looked up towards the sky. Fury was written in the drag of her eyebrows, the passion in her narrowed eyes, and the red, boiling magma that flowed beneath the freckles on her cheeks. She cried out, “You won’t make me into a killer!” The girl then sobered for a moment. A whisper crossed her lips, so quiet that it was a miracle it was picked up over the howling wind that whipped her hair. “I’m sorry, dad.” 

The boy leaped forward just as the girl turned and jumped off the cliff. 

Tadashi’s shoulders quaked. A feminine gasp could be heard from behind him. Hiro pounded his fists against the desk. 

“That’s messed up,” Fred whispered to himself. Wasabi nodded in agreement. 

Two announcers appeared upon the screen. They looked just as disgusted as Tadashi felt. 

One announcer wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “And that,” he began with a wavering voice. “Is the sad end of Abigail Callaghan. Now, forever marked as a coward.” 

“Coward” burrowed under Tadashi’s armor, piercing his flesh, and spreading through his body like a cancer. She was no coward. That was, by far, the bravest action he had ever seen someone take. The hand around Tadashi’s gun tightened while the other wiped at the wetness pooling beneath his eyes. 

After a moment of complete silence, Hiro coughed out, “Who’s Abigail?” 

“My daughter,” a dark voice rang out through the room. 

The team whipped around to meet their adversary: Robert Callaghan. 

\--

At first, Hiro felt joy at seeing his mentor again. He was alive! He was safe! But, as the microbots swarmed around his former colleague, pooling like black sludge over his feet and coming towards them like an oncoming wave, confusion drowned out his happiness. 

“I won’t let you stop me,” Callaghan snarled with the ferocity of a wild animal. 

Hiro was stunned. How could Callaghan work for the very people that killed his daughter? 

Even as the clicking machines slithered angrily towards him, Hiro was rooted in place by his utter astonishment. If it hadn’t been for Fred hurdling in front of him, shielding him with a stream of fire, he would have been struck. 

The fire did little to stop the microbots. The swarm wrapped around Fred’s waist, hoisted him up, and threw him across the room. He landed against the opposite wall with a loud, stomach-dropping thud. 

“Callaghan! What are you doing?” Tadashi questioned with a broken shout. He aimed his shaking rifle at his former coworker, but it was slapped out of his hand by the elder man’s machines, only to be swallowed by them. 

GoGo used the distraction to skate towards the scientist. Callaghan was quick to recover. He sent small batches of his weapons in front of the girl, but she danced around them flawlessly. Yet, in an effort to dodge each one of his onslaughts, more and more distance was put between them, until GoGo was nearly on the other side of the large room. 

Honey-Lemon did not stand by to simply observe the action, even as Wasabi desperately asked, “What is the plan?”

Hiro watched as she snuck behind one of the desks only to reappear with a translucent ball clutched in her hands. 

Honey-Lemon threw the orb as hard as she could towards Callaghan, but the man pivoted away from the contained chemical reaction with ease. The sphere landed with a splat just below GoGo’s feet, spreading a slick substance on the tile before her. It forced the girl to slip and fall. 

The taller girl’s actions did not go unpunished. The microbots rapidly encircled her before anyone could react, encasing Honey in a crude cocoon. 

Wasabi, in spite of the apprehension that was painted on his face, leaped over chairs and desks to reach his trapped friend. With his lasers, he carved away at Honey’s prison, but his efforts were for naught; he was not immuned to Callaghan's wrath, as he, too, was taken in by the microbots. They wrapped around his wrists and legs like dark cords, keeping him in place no matter how much he struggled. 

Robert Callaghan then set his sights on the two brothers in front of him. 

Hiro’s numbness melted into a fear that coiled around his innards. His hands twitched over the pack that was strapped to his side, but he couldn’t find it in himself to reach for a knife. the memory of Callaghan’s consoling, his kindness, his leadership trapped his wrist at his side. 

“Please, Callaghan,” Hiro pleaded as his mentor stepped forward in a menacing rhythm. “We trusted you!” 

Callaghan took another step. 

In a movement so quick Hiro hardly registered it, Tadashi reached into the holster of his sidearm and produced his handgun. He aimed it at the deranged scientist. 

“Take another step, and I won’t hesitate to shoot you,” Tadashi threatened with a hiss. 

Hiro gasped. He had never seen his brother looks so enraged. Betrayal seized his face, knitting his eyebrows dangerously over his sharp eyes and pulling his mouth into a sneer. 

Robert stopped his movements, but the line of his lips stretched into a smile that shook Hiro to his soul. 

“I would never hurt your brother, Tadashi,” he said with the same smoothness he had heard President Snow use countless of times before. 

Hiro gasped. He knew. He knew the whole time! 

“He reminds me of my Abigail,” Callaghan continued calmly. “Intelligent, fierce, and with a fiery temper. I took a shine to him right away -” 

“Then why are you doing this?” Tadashi demanded with a bark the reverberated throughout the room. “Why are you working for the people who betrayed you? Who killed your daughter?” 

Callaghan scoffed. The line of his lips slacked into a frown. The ocean blue of his eyes turned into steely gunmetal. “When District 13 took me in after I defected from District 2, I thought they would bring an end to the Capitol,” he began with a hiss. “ It took me a long time, but I saw that Coin was just as capable of cruelty as Snow. They won’t stop this madness until there is nothing left. I’m going to stop 13’s bombers headed to the Capitol for Abigail, for all the children of Panem, and I won’t let you stop me.” 

Tadashi’s rifle swam into Callaghan's hands just as the microbots captured Tadashi’s wrists, holding him in place. 

“No!” Hiro cried out as a shot rang out. 

The boisterous thundering echoed off of the walls, but the younger Hamada couldn’t hear anything above the roaring of his own heartbeat. His vision tunneled to where his elder brother fell on his knees in front of him, clutching the unprotected part of his thigh. Blood, dark and ugly, bloomed swiftly passed his stained fingers. 

_“It’s embedded in your femoral artery...”_

Time slowed. There was no thought, no feeling; Hiro’s fingers simply dove into his pack on instinct. They traced the sharp edge of the first knife. The cold metal stole the warmth from his body as he balled a fist around the handle of his weapon. It took a single, seamless movement for the boy to retrieve his instrument and throw it in Callaghan’s direction. 

_“...you’ll either die slowly, painfully of a staph infection, or bleed to death in minutes when you pull out that knife. Either way, you aren’t making it out of here alive...”_

It was too fast to dodge. Hiro doubted that Callaghan even saw the attack coming. 

There was no cry, no angered grunt, not even a last minute whimper. A spray of blood erupted from Callaghan’s newly fashioned neck wound. He crumbled onto the floor silently. Within seconds, his mentor was no more. 

_“... I made sure of that.”_

Hiro fell forward, landing harshly beside his wounded brother. He wrapped his arms tightly around Tadashi's shoulders as he gave pained grunts. 

The younger Hamada shook. He felt so, so cold. Every strand that made up his being tightened until he was sure that he would implode in on himself. Panic was the overwhelming gravitational force pulling at him from his center. 

_This can't be happening_ , he thought desperately to himself. This can't. His worst nightmare unfolded in front of him and he couldn't do anything to stop it. 

Hiro couldn't do this. He couldn't lose his brother again. 

The microbots fell around them. They cackled mockingly as they hit the floor. 

A cacophony of footsteps emerged from all around him. Through tear-drowned eyes, he looked up to see his friends crowd around Tadashi. His imminent death pulled at their wet expressions, twisting them into something horrifying. The flurry of emotions swirling inside of him reflected back at him in their glassy stares. 

"Please save my brother," Hiro begged through a broken sob. 

A tight grip wound around his arm. Hiro's gaze focused on Tadashi's pale, smiling visage. 

“Hiro,” the wounded man croaked.“Hiro, it’s going to be okay, buddy. Just sing me a song, please.” 

Hiro shook his head. He couldn’t - it would be saying goodbye, and he couldn’t say goodbye just yet. He wasn’t ready. 

“Please,” Tadashi pleaded. It was so broken, so afraid, so lost. 

Hiro choked on his tears. His throat felt raw and cracked, but he forced the lyrics to spill clumsily from his lips. 

_"...just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now, come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound."_

Tadashi’s heartbeat slowed on his visor. Beep...Beep…

Beep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DO YOU HATE ME YET? 
> 
> Just remember, there is an epilogue! You may want to check it out before you give up on this. 
> 
> As always, critiques are welcomed. Kudos and comments bring me much joy.


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys! It has been a remarkable journey. I am amazed at how long this fic became. It was originally intended to be a small, three-part story. It then transformed into twenty-one chapters without intent. I will always cherish this fic, and I am so sad to see it go. I do have some one-shot ideas for this universe, so you may not see the last of _Safe and Sound_ yet, but for now, please enjoy this epilogue.

Hiro couldn’t return back to District 13. Not after what had happened. 

Instead, he mailed his resignation of his citizenship and returned to his childhood home. 

Though aesthetically damaged, Aunt Cass’ bakery still stood as stable as it had always been. Regardless of his months spent in District 13, Hiro held the deed to the place. He pressed his thumb on the fingerprint lock. Once the mechanism made a pleasant beep that indicated his successful entry, he entered the space. 

Aside from the darkness, soot and dust that overwhelmed the small eatery, the cafe remained just as it was on the day Aunt Cass died. 

Hiro's heart panged, but he ignored it in favor of walking through the restaurant, to the back where the stairs were. He trudged each step with his lead-heavy legs until he reached the top floor: the attic-turned-room he had once shared with his brother. 

He plopped down on the bed, uncaring that a plume of disuse erupted all around him. He closed his eyes and allowed his exhaustion to pull at the outline of his frame. Just as he felt his mind drift wonderfully into sleep, a collection of thuds startled him out of his trance. 

Hiro groaned the moment he heard his bedroom door slowly creak open. 

"Hiro," a soft voice called out from the entrance of his room. "I know you two were close, but you can't just run off and hide without talking to someone." 

A flash of rage burned through his conscience and reason. His hands clenched into fists. A rush of breath escaped his flared nostrils. “I've heard the same speech over and over again,” Hiro barked with irritation. "So, you can shove your condolences and psychobabble up your ass." 

Tadashi sighed. He hobbled over to their shared bed. Delicately, he sat down next to Hiro before reaching out and stroking the hair out of his eyes. "I would think you would at least want to talk to me about her." 

A soft sob worked its way out of Hiro's lungs and passed his chapped lips. 

Prim had been too young to die. Yet, once the rebels broke through enemy lines, the young medic had gone into their territory with the other doctors of District 13, delivering aid to the suffering children of the opposing side, and was struck down by "Capitol" bombs in what seemed like a last ditch effort to repel the rebels. 

_(“You’re lucky, Urban,” a young medical worker had explained as she changed out the bandage on Tadashi’s leg. “A bunch of doctors from District 13 were killed yesterday. Those Capitol dogs bombed them and their own children. You could have been one of them.”_

_Hiro, who had been sitting next to Tadashi’s bed at the time, jumped up. Alarm had raced through Hiro’s body with the speed and force of a bullet. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe; his lungs filled with panic. Once he was able to speak, he choked out a hoarse, “Who?”_

_The medic didn’t know. Hiro wouldn’t find out until that night, during a news program running on the holographic television setup in one of the offices, that Prim was one of the casualties. Katniss had also been hurt extensively, and at the time,it was unknown if she would fully recover. Boggs and Finnick had also been casualties, although they didn’t release their cause of death. )_

Tadashi, Hiro and the rest of the nerd crew knew the truth. Callaghan, as crazed as he had been, was not delusional. He had tried to warn them that District 13 would kill their own people for their selfish gain. He had died for it. 

Hiro still didn't understand why the district would disguise their hovercraft to look like Capitol bombers when Snow was already in their grasp. Propaganda, perhaps? It was something Plutarch would cook up, surely. 

Either way, Prim was dead, and Hiro had lost one of the few friends he had ever made. 

Tadashi gathered Hiro in his arms. The younger Hamada cried against his chest as he was rocked back and forth by his lover's powerful arms.

"She was my friend, 'Dashi, why do I keep losing people?" he choked out. He pressed his face further into the broad chest against him. "I almost lost you, too." 

"But you didn't," Tadashi soothed. "I'm still here." 

It had been a close call, but Beetee had been far too cautious to let Hiro go on a mission without a vigilant eye on him. He watched through the wayward microbot's camera as chaos ensued within the control room. Just as Tadashi had been shot, he signalled a distress call to the forces in District 3. They got Tadashi to the hospital, where he received the latest of the medical supplies, although he tried to deny himself the precious medicine for the sake of the other patients. Hiro spent weeks at Tadashi's side, not leaving the hospital unless on official business, as he recovered. 

_(Beetee arrived in District 3 the day after their mission. He had made sure that Hiro ate, showered and slept, although it was carefully negotiated around Tadashi’s recovery schedule. Luckily, the clinic did not mind that the young robotics genius used their facilities._

_It was thanks to him that the District was able to escape the Capitol’s clutches. He was proclaimed a hero, and they were more than honored to help in anyway they could.)_

"President Snow's execution will commence in 15 minutes!" The announcement filtered through the speakers set up throughout their district. The feminine voice was low, but there was a lilt to her voice that suggested a sense of childish glee. 

Hiro wiped his eyes and calmed his breathing. He had to hold it together. There was no way he was going to miss that bastard's last breath on account of his hysterics. 

Tadashi looked less enthused. His eyes were cast low and his mouth formed a small frown, but he didn't fight Hiro's pull on his arm, leading him downstairs to the living room. The elder Hamada gingerly sat down on the couch. He beckoned Hiro to his side with a wave of his arm. With just as much care as Tadashi took, Hiro settled himself in the crook of his arm. 

Tadashi turned the "halo" on with the remote still seated on the side table next to him. Though slow to start, it worked, mildly surprising both boys. 

Uncharacteristically, the news coverage was not headed by individuals in flamboyant regalia, nor by a military general wearing a grey uniform. Instead, a woman, wearing a short haircut and a three-piece pantsuit of a neutral color, stood in front of the camera. She explained that Katniss Everdeen had recovered enough from the injuries sustained while on her capture mission to deliver the final arrow of the war, the arrow that would kill President Snow. 

Moments later, the brothers watched President Snow's stoic expression as his charges were read to him. He was then brought out to the square, by a pair of military men, surrounded by the people he had betrayed under his cruel rule. Katniss, in her staple, dark mockingjay outfit, walked swiftly, tall and proud towards the man. She stopped several feet before him. 

The camera captured Katniss notching the arrow, pulling it back, and whipping the weapon upward towards the balcony above Snow. Although filled to the brim with familiar officials, she released her instrument, managing to fatally strike President Coin where she stood. 

Hiro bounced and whooped with joy in his seat. Tadashi was stunned to stillness. 

"Katniss knows! She knows!" Hiro cried out with hysterical mirth. "She knows about Prim, about Coin, about everything! Yes!" 

Tadashi placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed. It sobered him. Rationality calmed his hollering, and although his happiness was not quelled, he did come to realize that the political landscape had changed. Katniss' arrow did end the war, but had it done so for the better? 

Hiro sighed. He faced his brother who, as far as the government was concerned, didn't exist, and certainly no one was willing to remind it. Pulled in by the gravity of his love for the elder man, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. The affection was returned just as gently, a promise that no matter what happened from then on out, they would face it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like me again? 
> 
> You knew I couldn't do it! <3


End file.
